Season 9
by Taaroko
Summary: Here it is: the sequel to my "Season 8". *Cue theme song.* Main characters: Buffy, Angel, Xander, Willow, Oz, Dawn, and Giles. Once again, expect big bad, big action, angst, friendship, love, humor, discovery, and death. Enjoy and review! T for violence.
1. 9x01: Aftermath

**If you haven't read my "Season 8", STOP!** You should not be reading this yet! There's really no point skipping ahead. Doing so would spoil pretty much everything that happened in "Season 8", and you'd be missing a year of the story. That would just be confusing and frustrating, so save yourself the trouble and simply read the previous season first. This will still be waiting here for you when you are done.

Now then, moving on. It's finally here! For that, I have to thank "Season 8" reviewers **BloomingViolets**, **NancyLaj**, **Calenlily**, **Geeky13**,** w****heeeliegirl**, **David** **Fishwick**, **Forever** **Chosen**, and **Nick**. Before you started asking for "Season 9", it had never even occurred to me to write one. It never would have happened without you. You guys are amazing. But don't let your awesome powers of inspiration go to your heads, because this is it. **I'm **_**not**_** going to write a season ten**, so please do not ask me to.

Okay, little bit of background info before we get going here, since it's been around two months now since "Season 8" ended. This episode could basically be the second part of "Pulse", the finale episode of last season. It begins pretty much exactly where that one left off with Buffy and Angel kissing in the sunlight. (Yes, I realize that the scene I just described was not the actual final scene of "Pulse". _That_ scene involved Drusilla talking to herself, the moon, and Miss Edith about how she was going to get her Spike back. This episode mostly takes place between the sunlight kiss scene and that final scene with Dru.)

Also, none of these characters are mine and the only compensation I get for doing this comes in the form of your reviews.

Now, without further ado...

* * *

Episode 1: Aftermath

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

†

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

The caverns were silent, the air stale, dank, and motionless. The dimly flickering torchlight was reflected in the metal of the cracked and corroded Seal in the middle of the floor. Under the reddish glow, it looked rather sinister. In the chamber beyond the unlit tunnel leading away from it lay the broken, defeated corpses of the twenty enormous necromancers. The remains of the Slayers of generations past were strewn peacefully over the ground, free at last of the black magic that had stolen them from their graves and used them for evil. Here and there beside them lay the bodies of young Slayers from the army that had opposed them, Slayers who had given their lives to save the world from the First Evil and ensure that their predecessors could continue their rest undisturbed. Rona and Kat were among them, and they might have been sleeping but for the mortal wounds that marked them as otherwise. The field of battle lay quiet and calm, undisturbed by the roiling movement of the city above it. That city would never even know of its existence, though its people owed the battle's outcome their lives.

The silence was suddenly rent by the approaching sound of footsteps. The disturbance echoed menacingly through the cavern and the torches seemed to sputter in response. The noise grew louder and louder until the intruders finally burst from the mouth of the tunnel and spilled into the cave.

"CHARGE!" shouted an enthusiastic, crossbow-wielding young man to the people behind him.

The group made it about five paces before someone else swore loudly and yelled for them to come to a halt. "Andrew, you idiot! There's nothing to fight!" said Kennedy, incensed. Quite a few of the other girls turned reproachful gazes on him at this.

"But…but that's not how epic battles work!" protested Andrew with the air of a child whose favorite Christmas present had been stolen by an older sibling. "The good guys come in, start fighting, and then the desperate music plays because the hero is seconds away from ugly death, and that's when Han Solo comes in with the Millennium Falcon and scatters the TIE Fighters and—_OW_! Hey! How many times do I have to tell you? No hitting the Watcher!" Kennedy had interrupted his indignant speech by smacking him impatiently on the back of the head.

Some of the girls began to giggle, but Kennedy, who was not amused in the slightest, turned her back firmly on Andrew and spoke in a commanding voice. "Okay, looks like our _Watcher_," so pronounced was her derision that it had come out as more of a hiss than a word, "was a little off in his calculations. We'll do some recon to see whether that means we're early or late, and then we'll drop by headquarters."

Andrew glared resentfully at her, still gingerly rubbing the spot where her hand had connected with his skull.

†

"Hey, where'd he go?" Buffy asked as she and Angel walked back into the hotel.

"Who?" said Angel absentmindedly. He had yet to completely process his newfound humanity, and the last several minutes spent kissing Buffy very thoroughly and in the sunlight hadn't done much to promote coherent thought.

"Dawn's boyfriend, Connor," she replied, frowning and looking around. "He tracked you here by scent. I wanted to ask him about that."

"Connor?" asked Angel. "He was here? He's Dawn's boyfriend?"

"And she never stops talking about him. He seems nice, though. But, yeah, wanting to ask about the night vision and super smelling. How do you two know each other, anyway?" She faltered. "What?" She had looked at Angel expectantly, only to find him gaping at her in complete shock. It was so comical that she had to suppress a giggle.

"Do you know where he went?" he spluttered.

She raised her eyebrows. "I was asking you that, remember? He probably went back to the hospital to see Dawn, though, now I think about it. They had some major puppy-dog eyes going on earlier."

"Oh," he said eloquently. The realization hit him then that he had never told Buffy about his son. For some unfathomable reason, it had never occurred to him before. He was rather distracted by the revelation that Connor was dating Buffy's little sister, who he had not seen since the night after Buffy's funeral.

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his middle and a pressure against his chest, where Buffy was now leaning her head. She gave a contented sigh. "It's a good sound. Thump-thump. Thump-thump."

"It feels pretty amazing," he replied automatically. He couldn't help thinking back to the first time they'd had that exchange, and suddenly, he knew what he needed to do first. "Let's go."

"Huh? Where?" she asked.

"You'll see. I want to show you something." He took her hand and led her to the door.

Now that the street was bathed in sunlight, the damage done by the battle was glaringly obvious. Buffy grimaced. "Gee, think anyone'll notice?"

"Could turn a few heads," said Angel dryly. He frowned. He didn't recall the battle taking place beyond the alley north of the hotel, and yet numerous demon corpses littered the entire street, along with a considerable amount of rubble from where chunks had been taken out of various buildings.

"Pity those guys don't go poof," said Buffy. In spite of her near decade of slaying experience, she was still somewhat revolted by the gruesome scene. In the distance, they could see that the road had been blocked off with pylons and "Road Closed" signs. The same was true in the opposite direction. "Well, doesn't that just reek of government involvement," she muttered. Having dealt with the Initiative, it didn't exactly surprise her, but it still made her rather uneasy. After exchanging a glance with Angel that told her he had similar misgivings, she followed him around to the alley, where he retrieved his bloodstained broadsword from where he had left it: embedded to the hilt between the front legs of the dragon.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"An offering."

†

"So, should we do something about the cave?" asked Willow. She was still considerably worn out from battling the First in astral form, but for the first time since she had been held prisoner by it in the cave in January, she was able to fully relax. Despite her exhaustion, she felt completely at ease, snuggled next to Oz, with his fingers idly stroking her hair.

"It poses no threat, now that the First has been destroyed," said Giles, regarding Willow with affectionate pride; she had done the impossible in vanquishing the First Evil, and had come away from the encounter whole, healthy, and completely herself. "I imagine it would be unwise to let our guard drop completely, but this Hellmouth is already long dead."

"Okay, that's of the good, a lot, but…what about the girls who died there?"

"We shouldn't leave them," said Xander.

"Agreed," said Oz.

"No, indeed. They're entitled to a proper burial," said Giles. "That place should not be their tomb."

"We could get them out this afternoon?" suggested Renée, unconsciously touching her fingers to the cut that ran diagonally across her face, a souvenir of the battle.

"I believe everyone will have recuperated well enough by then, yes," said Giles. "Victorious or not, it was a rather, ah, harrowing experience, to say the least."

"Aye," said Renée, "most of the other girls are still asleep."

"Sounds like fun," said Willow, yawning and blinking slowly. At the sound of footsteps approaching, the group looked around. Faith and Wood were walking nonchalantly towards them, their hands clasped loosely together.

"Heard anything from B yet?" asked Faith.

"Willow and I spoke to her a couple of hours ago," said Giles. "She was on her way to see Dawn at the hospital. There was some kind of battle, but it must've already been over when she got there."

"Busy night all around, then," said Wood.

"Battle, huh?" said Faith. "I wonder what mess Angel got himself into this time."

"Well, whatever it was, I don't think Buffy would have sounded so normal on the phone if he didn't make it out of it okay," said Willow through another yawn.

†

"Welcome, champions."

"Nice to see you two back among the living," said Angel with a slight smirk.

"We might say the same of both of you," replied the female Oracle, "though we have not had the pleasure of her company before."

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

"What gift have you brought?" asked the male Oracle, who seemed impatient with the pleasantries.

"The sword that slew the dragon," said Angel, laying the blade flat across his hands and holding it out.

The man took it and examined it with what seemed to be reluctant appreciation. "Very well."

"What is your errand this time?" said the woman. "I hope your intent is not what it was on your second visit, for I must warn you that we shall not be so accommodating this time." Her gaze was turned to Buffy, who looked back at her curiously.

"No," said Angel. "It isn't."

"What was your intent on the second visit?" asked Buffy.

For the first time since deciding to do this, Angel hesitated. He looked at her uncertain expression, however, and the moment of indecision passed. If he really wanted a future with her, particularly a mortal one, then he couldn't keep the past (rewritten or not) hidden from her. "You're about to find out," he said. Buffy's uncertainty increased, but Angel clasped her hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile, which helped. "I'm here to request that you give her the memories of the day you swallowed," he said with determination, his eyes back on the Oracles.

Buffy immediately shot Angel a sharp, questioning look. What was going on? Some of her memories were missing? What day was swallowed? He squeezed her hand slightly and she relaxed, more at the warmth of his fingers than anything else.

"Are you certain?" asked the man.

"Yes."

"You realize that to do what you ask, we would not simply be restoring something that was taken or hidden from her," he said, fixing Angel with his piercing and somewhat condescending gaze. "The day of which you speak never happened, so she, like all other beings in your world, never had those memories to begin with. You are asking us to retrieve something from an abandoned timeline."

"If you did it for me, you can do it for her. She deserves that much."

The man opened his mouth, clearly about to offer a further objection, but his sister forestalled him. "It is not too much to ask, Brother," she said. Then she beckoned to Buffy. "Come forward, Slayer."

Buffy didn't move, her gaze still on Angel.

"Trust me," he said, releasing her hand. She stared into his eyes for another few seconds before turning back to face the Oracles and warily approaching them. The woman stepped closer and raised her hands towards Buffy, who did not flinch when the gold fingertips touched her temples. Much more damaging to her equilibrium was the cascade of vivid mental images this triggered.

†

Giles frowned. He closed the reference book and again firmly instructed it to become _The Encyclopedia of Necromancy_, sixteenth edition, English translation. When he opened it, the pages remained resolutely blank. Until now, the only books which the chameleon tome had failed to imitate were the Watcher diaries. A knock at the door interrupted his frustrated attempts, and he replaced the book on the coffee table to go answer it.

Five minutes later, roughly fifty Slayers from the United States and Central America had been added to the already overabundant population of headquarters, led by an upset and sheepish Andrew and a seething Kennedy. Both of them followed Giles up to where the Scoobies were still gathered in a secluded corner of the second floor.

"It seems we have rather a lot of company," Giles informed them. "Again."

Kennedy's jaw clenched when she saw that Oz had his arm around a sleeping Willow and was trailing his fingers through her hair. _I knew it_, she thought bitterly. Her mood was not helped when the werewolf met her eyes. Though one of his eyebrows lifted a fraction, he appeared utterly unthreatened by her presence.

"We came to help with the battle," Andrew mumbled.

"Uh, thanks…," said Faith.

"You missed it by about twelve hours," said Wood.

"How did you guys even know about it?" asked Xander.

"I planted bugs all over the building," said Andrew proudly. He faltered, having realized his mistake, and attempted to backpedal over it. "For, you know, in case something happened and you couldn't contact us."

"How thoughtful," said Giles. "Get rid of them."

"We'll supervise," said Xander, and he and Renée followed Andrew away from the others.

"So, how's the roundup been going?" Faith asked Kennedy.

"It would probably go much better if I didn't have to babysit Mr. Spock," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But the training is going well. It's like being a real drill sergeant." She brightened a little at this. "And we've found so many Slayers already. The ones we brought with us aren't even a third of the ones we're training. What about you? You hit Europe, right?" She was determined to remain casual and avoid looking at the laconic piece of crap who had stolen her girlfriend.

"That's right," said Wood. "We made it through all of western Europe and were about to head to Russia before we came back. About half of the girls we trained came with us."

†

"These things have been transmitting everything to you since you left?" asked Renée. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or impressed. Her rather strong nerdy streak made it a difficult choice.

"Yes they have," said Andrew with poorly executed smoothness after he removed one of the small recording devices from its hiding place behind the vent at the bottom of the fridge. "And who might this lovely lady be, Xander?"

"That would be my girlfriend."

Renée glowed; it was the first time he had actually referred to her as such.

"I see," said Andrew, placing a hand to his chin and narrowing his eyes in an attempt to appear contemplative, "then let us test her valor. I shall ask you three questions, fair maiden."

Renée stared blankly at him.

"Humor him," said Xander, smirking. "He out-geeks both of us combined. There's no stopping it."

"Very well," said Renée, who was feeling rather competitive at Xander's words. "Ask me the questions, bridge keeper. I am not afraid."

Andrew nodded approvingly. "What…is your name?"

"Renée Blackwood of the land of Scots," she answered stoutly, making her normal accent much thicker than usual.

Xander snickered, but quickly tried to pass it off as a cough, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"What…is your quest?"

"To slay vampires and demons."

Andrew nodded again and considered for a few seconds. A triumphant gleam danced in his eyes as the perfect question came to him. "What…is the name of the best Bond actor?"

"Sean Connery," said Renée without hesitation. A fellow Scotsman was, after all, the obvious choice.

Andrew's face instantly reddened. "WHAT?" he demanded in outrage, his voice jumping up at least half an octave. "How can you _say_ that? That's it, into the Gorge of Eternal Peril with you!"

†

"It is done," said the female Oracle as Buffy stepped back from her, stumbling slightly in disorientation. Angel watched her, feeling more than a little nervous about her reaction.

Buffy was reeling, her mind struggling to incorporate the new information that had just been added to it. Angel had been human before, and they had been together, but he had given it up? The anguished conversation of the last few moments of that perfect day came to the forefront of the swirling mass of memory, and with it, his reason for going back. It seemed odd; the memories were so fresh, but she still had the benefit of years of hindsight. He had been right, and she had known it even then. It hurt, but of the two of them, he wasn't the only one who'd had to give up the one he loved in the interest of the world—nor was he the only one who'd had to give up his own life to save another, so she really couldn't hold it against him. In fact, it was probably part of what made them so suited to each other; they had both been able to put the safety of others first no matter the cost to themselves.

Still, that wasn't exactly the issue here. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked, her tone surprisingly even.

"I didn't want to hurt you with the memory of something we couldn't have."

"But _you_ got to remember it?" She couldn't stop a note of accusation from entering her voice.

"I had to, or we would have just done the same thing over again," he said imploringly, taking a step closer to her. "Turning back time wasn't my idea, it was theirs. All I wanted was to give back my life so you could keep yours."

"Oh," she said numbly.

"Do you really think those memories would have done you any good if you'd had them all along? Being what I was...it was never more difficult than it was in the months after that day, because as far as I knew, I wasn't ever going to have that again. You were free to move on and find it with someone else." He paused. "If you had remembered, would you have wanted to?"

"I didn't want to anyway, but being alone was hardly the fun alternative. Why do you think I let you back in most of the times I saw you over the past five years? I never moved on, not really, so why couldn't I keep that day?"

Angel considered her for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was very gentle, as was his expression. He suddenly looked remarkably vulnerable. "I've never been torn out of heaven. Never really even thought I'd end up there to begin with. Two hundred and seventy-seven years on this earth and another hundred in hell, and that day was the closest thing to heaven I've ever had."

Buffy gasped at the comparison. Though the events of the day so far were enough evidence to prove that his feelings for her had not waned any more than hers for him, the idea that she was the equivalent of heaven to him was still slightly overwhelming, especially as she _had_ been there. "I didn't want the pain of giving it up to be yours too," he went on. His eyes lit up eagerly. "But now that we can have it back, there was no reason to protect you from it anymore." Before she could entirely recover, his hand came up to caress the side of her face. She shifted awkwardly, not keen on idea of an audience, but when she looked around, she was startled to discover that they were not only alone, but back in the access chamber beneath the post office. When had that happened?

Seeing her confusion, Angel smirked and withdrew his hand. "Yeah, they do that."

She nodded blankly, but mentally she had already resumed perusing her new memories. They definitely didn't feel four and a half years old. An impish grin tugged at the corners of her mouth even as her cheeks reddened slightly. The latter may have had something to do with her having spent the last two years in celibacy. Catching Angel's amused expression, she cleared her throat.

"Uh, I'm guessing I'm not the only one who wants to take this in the same direction as things were going that day," she said, then hurriedly amended, "before you went all noble on me, I mean."

"Good guess."

Her heart fluttered rapidly. She was glad he couldn't hear it anymore, as that particular skill had tended to make all her attempts at appearing collected around him go to crap. "Okay, well." She fought the urge to break eye contact and twist her hands together. It was difficult, but she managed it. "Apart from the few other times we've seen each other in the last five years and everything that's happened today, we've each got these kind of huge gaping chunks of our lives that the other wasn't around for, so…." Her gaze wandered vaguely, as if searching for the end of her sentence, but Angel found it for her.

"You want to do the dating thing first?"

"Yeah," she said, relieved that he didn't seem disappointed. "It just might be a bad idea picking up right where we left off without getting to know each other again first. But not starting completely over, though. Cold turkey restraint hasn't exactly been our forte."

"It really hasn't," he agreed, his eyes twinkling.

"Besides," the impish grin returned (but with no accompanying blush this time), and she closed the distance between them, "I've never minded when we skipped to this part." She rocked forward on the toes of her boots and met his lips with hers as their arms went around each other.

Though this was hardly the first time they'd kissed that day, Angel was still getting used to doing it as a human. His skin was now the same temperature as hers and he could no longer hear her heart hammering wildly; the thumping sound in his ears was that of his own pulse, but the most incredible change of all was the complete lack of obstacles. This wasn't forbidden anymore, and he was discovering that the thrill of rebellion (which guilt had largely overridden for him anyway) was nothing to the joy of actual freedom. They broke apart, both smiling, and he took her hand again.

"Where are we going now?" she asked with playful curiosity.

"I want you to meet someone."

But Angel's plan to properly introduce Buffy to his son was delayed slightly when he realized how hungry he was. He was already nervous enough at the prospect of telling her about Connor without his stomach growling loudly every other minute. Just as keen to help him readjust to humanity as she had been on the erased day, Buffy took him to Fritella's, a tiny but excellent Italian café where her father used to take her to lunch back when she would visit him on weekends. They both ordered lasagna, which was so scaldingly hot when served that it effectively prevented Angel from wolfing it down like a ten-year-old. Not that he hadn't tried at first.

While at the café, Buffy also discovered, to her great amusement, that Angel had a tendency to jump in alarm whenever he caught sight of his reflection. Of course, after two and a half centuries of its absence, she could hardly blame him. It became slightly less funny when, after recovering from the initial shock of seeing his reflection, he asked her repeatedly if she thought his hair looked weird. In the end, she practically had to threaten him with bodily harm to convince him that she liked it the way it was and under no circumstances was he to change it. He didn't bring it up again.

Full to bursting with delicious lasagna and the chocolate and raspberry gelato they'd had for dessert, they then went to the hospital to see Dawn. Or, at least, that was why Buffy thought they were going there.

†

"Hands feeling any better?" said Connor.

Dawn flexed her heavily bandaged fingers and winced slightly. "A little bit," she said. "So where was Angel?"

"At the hotel."

Dawn snorted, but Connor didn't seem to notice. He was staring at the wall in an unfocused sort of way. "What is it?" she asked.

"He's human," said Connor in an awed voice.

"Huh? Who?"

"My father."

Dawn gaped at him. "Angel's human? As in living, breathing, and out in the sunlight?"

Connor nodded.

"Wow…that's…wow." She blinked out of her amazement and smirked wickedly. "Have he and Buffy been all over each other yet?"

"It was the happily ever after kiss from every chick flick ever made," he confirmed dispassionately. "Which makes me glad I don't watch them if I can help it."

Dawn snorted, inwardly plotting how best to trick him into watching one with her in the near future. She might even play up her injuries to rope him into it.

There was a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head in to announce that Dawn had more visitors. She left, and Buffy and Angel walked in. The former, whose eyes went straight to her sister, failed to notice that Connor had gotten to his feet and was grinning broadly at her companion.

"Hi, Dawn," said Buffy, smiling.

"Hi, Buffy. Hi, Angel," said Dawn.

Angel looked at her. She certainly had grown up since the last time he'd seen her. The idea of Connor dating her made much more sense in his head now. "Hey, Dawn," he said, smiling.

She did not smile back. Instead, she glared rather pointedly at him, jerking her head first in Connor's direction, then Buffy's. He looked at his son, pretending he hadn't noticed. "I guess you didn't go home like I told you to," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Buffy frowned and looked away from Dawn to stare back and forth between the other two.

"Nope," said Connor unrepentantly. "Looks like now we know where I got my stubborn streak."

"You could have been killed," said Angel. That thought alone made it hard for him to breathe, which was rather more problematic for him now that it was actually a necessary habit.

"So could you, which is why I had to be there." All traces of the grin had left Connor's face.

"Okay, what's going on?" asked Buffy.

Dawn stared at Angel with wide eyes. If he didn't tell her sister about Connor in the next five seconds, he would find himself covered in her uneaten jell-o. But it wasn't necessary. Angel had torn his gaze away from Connor to look at Buffy, his serious expression matching the one that Connor now wore.

"Buffy, I'd like to introduce you to Connor. My son."

†

After Buffy had gaped, open-mouthed, at Connor for at least thirty seconds, she had tugged Angel back out of the room and into the hall.

"Okay, I don't actually know your sister all that well," said Connor. "How likely do you think it is that she's going to take his head off?"

"I guess it's a good thing we're in a hospital," said Dawn.

†

"So. That time when you told me you couldn't have kids. What was that? And what about when you left me so I could have them with someone else?"

"I couldn't. I mean—vampires _can't_ have kids. Connor wasn't supposed to be possible. Darla and I were both dead."

"And I thought Darla was a lot deader than that. I watched her turn to dust. You staked her when she was about to shoot me."

"Wolfram and Hart brought her back. As a human. But then she was dying of the same thing she would have died from the first time around. I tried to save her. Went through the Trials, but it didn't work. And then Drusilla turned her right in front of me."

Buffy could see the pain and horror in his eyes as he relived it in his mind, and her own mostly hostile emotions were disrupted by an involuntary stab of pity. But she wasn't done. "Okay, but how do you get from there to Connor?"

"I'm glad you never had to see me those few months, Buffy. When I went to Darla, I was trying to lose my soul. But instead, I found another one, even if I didn't know it yet. Connor's. A soul so bright and pure that Darla sacrificed herself to let him come into the world. He's the life I earned in the Trials."

"But you didn't tell me." The emotion that got through her stiff tone that time was hurt.

"I'm sorry. I should have. But Buffy, I…I can't be sorry that Connor exists, or that I'm his father."

Looking at him, she felt her anger and resentment begin to melt away. "Hey, um, I'll be right back," she said.

He watched her dart back into Dawn's room, slightly bewildered.

†

"Is he still alive?" asked Dawn nervously.

"What?" said Buffy, frowning. "Of course he is. He's just outside."

Both teenagers looked intensely relieved, though Connor was still thoroughly apprehensive. Buffy smiled at him. "I was thinking that with the battle being over and everything…"

"Yeah?" he asked uncertainly.

"Well, it's a nice day, and there are a lot of perfectly good weapons lying around on the street by the hotel. I thought you could come with us," she gestured at the door, through which Angel still waited, "and help, uh, loot the demon corpses."

Dawn giggled.

"Really?" asked Connor, his expression clearing.

"Yeah," said Buffy.

He turned to her sister. "You gonna be okay here for a while, Dawn?"

"Yeah. Thought I might get some actual sleep, since being unconscious before didn't really help much," she said, shrugging and repressing a wince, since the action had jarred her arrow wound.

"Okay. I'll see you in a couple of hours." He bent down and kissed her briefly.

"Bye," she said, "Have fun with the…looting."

†

The three of them made their way back to the street by the hotel, and Angel couldn't have been happier. The two people he cared about most were walking beside him, and it hadn't taken long before their tentative stabs at conversation with each other had become easy and relaxed.

The battlefield lay unchanged from when they had last seen it, except that they noticed several rather official looking vehicles pulling away in the distance.

"Looks like we just missed the feds," said Buffy uncertainly.

"They'll probably be back," said Angel.

"Goodie."

They spread out slightly and began picking through the numerous dead demons to find things they could salvage. Connor told Angel what had happened in the street with the part of the battle he'd been fighting. When he told him how so many of the people he'd helped over the years had been there to return the favor, Angel came very close to tears. He never would have imagined that they would be there.

After dumping one more armload of weaponry off at the hotel, Connor made to return to the hospital. Before he could go, Angel seized the opportunity to hug him tightly, conveying through the embrace all of the relief he felt that his son was okay after fighting in the battle, as well as the gratitude that he'd been there fighting for him. Buffy surprised them both by hugging him too, and he departed.

†

"Ooh, greatsword," said Buffy sometime later, hefting a magnificent blade, which was quite as long as she was tall, as if it only weighed a few pounds.

"Trade you for the lochaber axe," said Angel, holding up the weapon in question.

Buffy eyed it critically. "Nah. I've been using an axe for almost a year. I might try swords until I get it back." She frowned. She missed the way the Scythe felt when she wielded it. This sword she had taken from its fallen demon owner felt foreign and lifeless in her hands.

"Well, now's your chance to break it in," said Angel, his eyes widening.

"Huh?"

"Behind you!" Evidently a few of the corpses were not quite as dead as they had thought. Two large, muscular demons with black veins bulging out all over their dark green skin had jumped back up, raising the twin battle axes of which Buffy and Angel had not yet relieved them. Buffy ducked just in time to avoid having her head lobbed off by the first demon's axe.

"Oh, good," she grunted as she kicked out viciously at the leg of the demon closer to her. "Now I get to make up for not being in the battle!" Her foot connected solidly with her opponent's shin, and the crack of breaking bone rang out like gunfire. The demon let out a roar of pain and its axe clattered to the pavement.

Its fellow was about to lunge when it jerked back, a crossbow bolt embedded in its jugular. It too bellowed in fury and agony, but was still coming back for more. Yards away, Angel dropped the crossbow back into his pile of weapons and caught up a mace in one hand and a scimitar in the other.

Buffy rolled to avoid the second demon's swishing axe blade and the pummeling fists of the one whose leg she had snapped. She jumped back to her feet and swung the greatsword around in a wide arc, and the first demon's head fell to the ground as its body collapsed. She barely had time to turn and see the second demon bearing down on her when she heard a sickening crack. Angel had brought the mace down with all his strength on the top of the demon's skull, and it dropped like a stone. Not wanting any more surprises, he wasted no time beheading it with the scimitar.

"You okay?" he asked, panting slightly more heavily than she was.

She nodded and eyed him appreciatively. "Looks like someone won't be spending the rest of the season on the bench after all."

"Yeah," he said, grinning and swinging the scimitar experimentally. "Good to know." He rolled his shoulders and grimaced slightly. "I think I almost dislocated my shoulder doing that."

Buffy chuckled. "I'll just go drop these off," she said, collecting the axes from the two demons, her greatsword, and the few other weapons she had amassed since the last time she'd unloaded at the hotel.

Angel watched her go, his smile returning. He walked back to his own pile of weapons and started looking for more to add to it, when he heard a familiar voice hailing him. "Ah, Angel, we meet again!"

It was the Groosalugg. His hair was long again and he was dressed in standard garb of Pylean warriors. His face split with an enormous grin as he drew nearer, and before Angel had quite realized what was happening, he was being pulled into a hug.

"Yeah, Groo, it's great to see you again," he grunted.

Groo stepped back and held him at arm's length. "I had hoped for the chance to speak to you before I returned to my world. I saw you in combat with those two vile beasts. You and your companion fought very well, though I expected no less."

"Thanks." Angel was rather relieved when he finally released him.

"And the battle! We are victorious, my friend!" Groo cried triumphantly.

"So we are," said Angel, smiling. "It's been a good day."

A shadow crossed Groo's expression, and the next words came out after an apparent struggle, though they were spoken with no less sincerity. "You should find your princess, so that she might join you in your triumph." Angel's throat tightened and he found it difficult to meet the warrior's eyes. "What troubles you?" Groo asked with genuine concern.

"Cordelia died. Two months ago," Angel told the pavement between them in a cracked voice. "But she was never my princess." He eventually managed to bring his gaze back up. Groo appeared to be struggling to hide the fact that he was utterly distraught by this news. The joy of victory was completely gone from his countenance.

"Did you not care for her?" he asked, still losing the battle to maintain his composure.

"She was one of the only true friends I've had in centuries. I loved her for that. We never got to see if it would lead anywhere before it all went to hell. When I thought she'd finally come back, it was really only to say goodbye," said Angel. His vision blurred with unshed tears.

"That was not my wish," said Groo solemnly, his head bowed.

Angel remembered what Kathy, his sister (and evidently his guardian angel), had told him before granting his humanity, and smiled softly. "Doyle used to call her princess too. Maybe they found each other again."

"And did this Doyle love her?" Groo's tone was urgent, though not from jealousy.

"Yeah," said Angel, chuckling slightly as fond memories of the Irish half-demon flickered across his mind. "He did."

†

Buffy, who had already dumped the weapons and returned, had heard most of the conversation, and as Angel and the earnest warrior began instead to swap stories of what had happened on their respective sides of the battle, she gazed intently at the former vampire. When they were together in Sunnydale, he had only begun to tap into his potential. Even having glimpsed a few snapshots of his journey, she was awestruck by the man he had become. A champion to the core.

Despite it all, she doubted he had seen those differences in himself. The only reason _she_ could see them was that she had seen so little of him for five years. Five years in which, among other things, he had become a father and developed feelings for Cordelia. Buffy felt a flicker of fear. They had both grown and changed. Had they gotten so far apart that they wouldn't be able to bridge that chasm? Was it too late to mend the broken promise the forgotten day had offered? It seemed ironic; with circumstance finally in their favor, they themselves might not be anymore. At that point, Angel turned and noticed her, still frozen in place twenty feet away. The look on his face when he saw her banished all of her fears. It was clear as day that he still loved her. They could figure out the rest together in the coming months.

While Groo was there, they left the task of gathering weapons and instead spent the next couple of hours laying the bodies of their fallen allies to rest.

The Groosalugg wasn't the only veteran of the battle they ran into, either, though Buffy still thought he was the most entertaining. After Angel introduced her to him, she gladly joined them with the story swapping. When Buffy and Angel described the Mayor together, Groo looked from one to the other and back with an odd expression before starting to talk about "kyrumption" and "moira". This made no sense whatsoever to Buffy and sent Angel straight into brood mode, but before an explanation could be had, a few more not-quite-dead demons rose, and after helping Buffy and Angel kill them, Groo departed.

†

Though the sun set long before they had finished, there was still no word from Spike. Buffy had no desire to leave things with him in the same unpleasant place where they ended up that morning, with him storming from the hotel. She really had no idea what she was supposed to say to make it right, since the only guaranteed way to do that would be to change her mind and choose him over Angel, and that wasn't going to happen. Still, she had to at least try. Angel, who couldn't help feeling rather sorry for him, knowing how he'd feel had their situations been reversed, took Buffy to Spike's apartment. The place was a complete wreck, and its occupant was nowhere to be found. They stopped by the hospital where Illyria continued to stand sentinel over a post-surgery but still unconscious Gunn, but Spike hadn't been there either.

Strike three came at Dawn's hospital. In addition to the constant presence of Connor, Dawn now had a roommate whose arms were bandaged much like her own. The girl was asleep and snoring rather loudly, but Dawn introduced her as Kaida Griffith, her pyrokinetic classmate who had used her ability to great effect—and unintentional self-injury—in the battle alongside them. Eventually, Buffy and Angel returned to the hotel, agreeing that if Spike wanted to be found, he'd turn up, but all things considered, that might not happen right away.

†

Around nine in the evening, while Angel was still upstairs seeing what he could do about getting his old room and the one Buffy had picked out for herself free of dust bunnies—or dust dragons, as was probably a more accurate description at this point—, Buffy picked up the phone and called headquarters.

"Buffy, how are you?" came the familiar accented voice of Giles after three rings.

She pondered her answer briefly. "I'm…doing really well, actually."

"Wonderful. I found the message on the answering machine. I trust that would account for your rushing across the country?"

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't fill you in."

"That's quite all right. What exactly happened in L.A.?"

"Pretty much what Angel's message said. He picked a pretty massive fight, and with a lot more help than he thought he was going to get, he won. And judging by what was on the news in waiting rooms of both of the hospitals we went to today, it all caused some chain reaction thing that made all of the offices of Wolfram and Hart worldwide simultaneously collapse. They've been having fun trying to come up with a rational excuse for that one, and the battle aftermath is attracting government people. Who, thankfully, we've managed to avoid, since nobody's paying attention to the abandoned hotel next door."

"Well, if Wolfram and Hart is no more, at least as far as this dimension is concerned, that might explain why the book stopped working," Giles mused.

"What book?"

"The template Wesley gave me before we came to Cleveland. I tried to use it to read up on our dispatched necromancer chappies, with no success."

"Why? There aren't more of them, are there?" asked Buffy in mild trepidation.

"Not that we know of, no," Giles reassured her, "I just wanted to be thorough."

"Of course," said Buffy, smirking. Giles cleared his throat and she changed the subject. "What did you guys do today?"

"We went back to the cave and retrieved the remains of the Slayers who died there last night. Or before then, I suppose, in the case of the ones the First was using as its army."

"That's good," she said somberly. Every victory seemed to have come at a price. "We did that here, too."

"Right. Now then, we've also been discussing our plans for the coming months."

"Oh, good," said Buffy, "because that's sorta what I called about."

"Oh?"

"No, it's okay, tell me the plan first."

"Very well. This training routine we've employed for the past ten months has been quite effective. The new Slayers have been able to benefit enormously from your expertise and the opportunity of sparring with each other at any time."

"I'm sensing a however."

Giles sighed and shook his head in amusement. "Well done. _However_, now that the threat of the First and its army is gone, and knowing that the Hellmouth here is dead, the others and I thought it might be time to change tact."

"And?"

"We'd maintain the headquarters for training, but after the girls reach a certain level, they might, er, graduate, if you will, and fulfill their callings elsewhere."

"Like their hometowns," said Buffy, smiling in understanding, "so they can be back with their families and friends."

"Precisely. But that's where the other part of the plan comes in. If these Slayers are to be working alone, I'd rather like to be able to provide them with Watchers."

"So, headquarters gets to double as Watcher and Slayer academy now?"

"Well, yes. Though, as I'm sure you noticed, there's really not room for such an operation in this building alone, magnificent as it is. Particularly as we still have the girls from Europe here, and we received a rather ill-timed visit from Andrew and four dozen new Slayers since our last conversation."

Buffy snorted, before looking thoughtfully around at her rather large and unused current setting. Hours of scouring the battlefield for useable weapons had left the cabinet in the lobby full-to-bursting, and there were at least as many as that piled high next to it. Most would require serious cleaning before they could be used again, but that could be a task for the next day. It was an arsenal just as impressive as the one in Cleveland, and there were rooms enough here to house the people who could use them.

"I might have a solution to the space problem," she said, "which brings me back to the reason I called."

"Yes?"

"I'm staying in L.A."

"I thought that might be it, what with imminent threats being rather scarce in the wake of the battle. Or, well, _battles_, I should say."

In spite of his unnerving perceptiveness, she still wanted to explain. "I want to be closer to Dawn. We made phone calls work for ten months, but I've missed her, and I owe it to both of us for this not to be just a short visit." Giles waited patiently when she paused. Even after the many shocking revelations the day had brought, she found nothing in her that rejected the other reason for staying, so she took a deep breath and finally voiced it.

†

Angel looked around the familiar room, which was now devoid of dust. Even though he hadn't set foot there in almost a year, returning to the Hyperion did not feel like taking a step backward. His gaze swept the room one more time before he turned the light off, closed the door, and made his way downstairs.

By the time he was halfway down, Buffy's voice began drifting up to him as she used the phone in the lobby, and he felt slightly anxious. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she had pulled his bruised and broken form from the alley, cleaned him up, healed him by force-feeding him a rather generous amount of her own blood, and fallen asleep curled up against him. Since then, the Shanshu Prophecy had been fulfilled despite his belief that he was barred from it forever, he had kissed Buffy in the sunlight, gotten the Oracles to give her the memories of their perfect day together, and told her about Connor. On top of all that, he was fairly sure she had overheard the first part of his conversation with Groo.

Despite the fact that she had been the one to suggest that they get reacquainted before getting too serious again, he wondered if he would have been better off waiting a while to fill in those particular blanks. The more he thought about this, the lower his heart sank. He'd probably blown it by expecting her to process it all at once. Now she'd just spend time with Dawn and head back to Cleveland and out of his life. Well, he supposed dully, it _was_ her turn to do the leaving.

He froze when he reached the bottom of the stairs and heard his name. His head jerked up to find the object of his resigned thoughts staring back at him from across the lobby. She was still speaking into the receiver, but her softened expression and the way her eyes did not waver from his face told him that her words were as much for him as for the person on the other end.

"Angel's human. A lot of major life-altering stuff has happened to both of us since we were together, and I got a pretty big taste of that today, but nothing has changed the way I feel about him, so I'm not going to let this pass us by if I can help it. I'm going to stay here with him."

* * *

And so the fun begins! Holy _crap_, there was a lot of meaningful dialogue in this one. And it's not easy to re-integrate a character who has been leading his own show for five seasons. I'm trying very hard to make sure I don't diminish Angel back to his humble beginnings as merely Buffy's love interest, because that would be deeply lame, and he deserves better. I had lots of fun writing him experiencing being human again. Particularly the part when he jumps at his reflection and then gets really paranoid about how his hair looks. By the way, I'm picturing him as he was when he first arrived in "Welcome to the Hellmouth", because he technically wasn't supposed to age at all for the entire run of both shows. Until now, of course, but even though he's human and subject to aging now, he'll still be looking twenty-six or twenty-seven for the entirety of "Season 9". Also, I will have none of this rubbish about human Angel being unable to fight. Gunn, Wood, Wesley, Giles, and (sometimes) Xander have all proven that mortal men are quite capable of holding their own without any kind of super strength. Angel, who has considerably more experience than all of them put together, would be just as proficient, if not more so, than any of them. Having Buffy and Angel use the specific technical names of weapons in casual conversation made me giggle. I'm so happy I found a way to bring Andrew back! Used sparingly, there's nothing more fun than writing his silly geek antics. I would hug him if I could. I actually feel bad for subjecting Kennedy to him, and considering how much I despise Kennedy, that's saying something. I loved using their antagonistic dynamic for the opening scene, particularly after making it seem like something sinister was happening in the cave with the Hellmouth. Haha. Got in some Willow/Oz, Faith/Wood, and Xander/Renée there, if briefly. Will be doing more justice to them in future. More on Buffy and Angel. It would be rather low of him to jump into a relationship with her without first telling her about the day that wasn't, Connor, and his feelings for Cordelia. So, instead, I had him almost screw it all up by telling her about all three in a matter of hours. It would have undoubtedly been an incredibly surreal sort of day for him, so those actions seem logical. All through "Season 8", I was leading Buffy towards becoming cookies, and she's known for months how much she missed Angel and wanted to be with him (though she never thought she'd actually get to, since he also never told her about the Shanshu prophecy). Still, it's been five years since they were together, so unlike in "I Will Remember You", they're not just going to jump each other in under five minutes. The hotel. I love the hotel. It will be a very important setting this season. And...I think that's everything.


	2. 9x02: Customer Disservice

Episode 2: Customer Disservice

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

†

Friday, April 2, 2004

He looked at the statement. It was difficult to read, what with the blood spatters and the him being very drunk, but he knew what it said anyway. After all, the IRS representative hadn't given him cause to eviscerate him until _after_ explaining its implications. But a dead tax man didn't make him any less broke.

"Jush give me the whole bottle," slurred the already plastered bar patron, shoving a few of his last dollar bills across the counter. The bartender eyed him balefully.

"You've already drunk the rest of the guys under the table by at least five drinks. You're not getting any more tonight."

"Oh yeah?" he retorted angrily. "Well, 'f I'm still sober 'nuff to remember that I've losht all my hard-earned wealth 'cuz someone wiped the floor with my lawyers and the IRS found out 'bout it, then 'nother drink won't hurt." He finished on a decisive hiccup.

"We're not going to find out. The one you just had was your last."

The patron snarled, the bones of his forehead crunching audibly as his face shifted into its demonic visage. "Then maybe I'll be drinking you inshtead." He was having trouble focusing his now yellow eyes on the insolent barman, who, far from reacting with panic and immediate compliance, seemed bored.

"Look, pal, you want another one, fine. But you pass out, I'm still dumping your sorry hide out on the street come closing time." He placed his hands a foot and a half apart on the counter and leaned forward. "And we close just before sunrise." The vampire scowled at him, but dropped the subject. The bartender walked away, rolling his eyes and leaving the grumpy drunk vampire to stare glumly into his empty shot glass. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to growl at whoever was bothering him. It was a demon with mottled purple skin and a series of short horns protruding from his cheekbones and forehead.

"You say you've had some lawyer trouble?"

"Thassright." He trailed off with a series of barely discernable swearwords.

"Then we've got something in common." He jerked his head in the direction of a shadowy corner of the bar. The vampire looked over and saw a cluster of other demons. Some vampires and others of the same race as the one standing beside him, but all of them looked angry and irritable. The expensive suits they wore despite the grubbiness of the bar they'd all gathered in indicated that he wasn't the only one who had just watched his considerable and highly illegal investments go down the federal toilet. "How'd you like to join us next sunset when we express our gratitude to the man responsible for all of that?"

†

Willow pulled the drawers of her nightstand open and frantically upturned their contents, then dropped to the floor and peered under the bed. Where was it? She got back up and yanked the comforter off the bed and shook it, then did the same for the top sheet. Nothing. And it wasn't on the mattress. She ran to the bathroom and looked in all the drawers there. The shower. The closet. All of the pockets of her dirty laundry. _Where was it?_ She checked the pockets of the jeans she currently wore for about the fifth time, but it wasn't there either. She tore from the room and ran down the stairs to search the second floor. Had she left it in the kitchen? She couldn't remember! In her frenzied preoccupation, she didn't notice a sleepy Xander who was heading for the fridge, thinking vaguely of bagels and cream cheese, and she bumped into him.

"Morning, Wil," he yawned.

"Have you seen PEZ-witch?" she asked. If she hadn't already moved on to check the gap between the cupboards and floor, she wouldn't have missed his suddenly alert and, more importantly, shifty, expression.

"Nope."

She let out a noise of deep exasperation and headed to the first floor instead. There she found Giles, who was taking advantage of the morning hours to make yet more telephone calls to people in England, most of whom were retired former Watchers. He'd been fortunate in his efforts so far, as many had children, grandchildren, other relations, or friends still aware of the supernatural and eager to take part in his plan to provide Watchers to as many of the young Slayers as possible. He was distracted from his present conversation by Willow, who had begun flitting about the room, crouching down to look under furniture and reaching between couch cushions in a twitchy and agitated manner.

"Yes, that would be very helpful, and, er, I'm sorry, could you hold on for a moment? Thank you. Er, Willow? What are you doing?"

"Looking for PEZ-witch!" she burst out. "I haven't been able to find it all morning!"

Giles kept his expression carefully blank and drank a few mouthfuls of his now lukewarm tea. "I'm sure you'll find it soon enough," he said, then lifted the handset back to his ear as Willow moved on to look by the computers. "Right then, there are a few matters to take care of before…"

†

Angel chuckled, running his hand over the vehicle's familiar hood. "Nearly a year with a dozen shiny sports cars, and now I'm back down to the one old Plymouth."

"But at least you can drive in the day with the top down now," said Buffy fairly.

"Yeah. And it's actually a good thing, you know? That many fancy, expensive cars were really…," he trailed off, his eyes misting over in wistful memory of the beautiful machines.

"…Going to your head?" suggested Connor.

"…Unnecessary?" added Dawn.

"…Only there to distract you from the fact that you were running Hell, Inc.?" said Buffy. All three smirked at Angel, who glared at them. "It was nice of Gunn's friend to keep it for you all year."

"Yeah," he said, looking back at it and frowning. "I think he messed up the bumper a little when he was using it, though."

"Right, and you only drove it into and back from a different dimension and used it to bowl over the occasional demon," said Connor, while Dawn giggled.

"Hey, isn't today a school day?" Angel asked casually, raising his eyebrows. She smiled innocently and changed the subject.

After making sure his beloved GTX was still in excellent working order (and enduring yet more mocking from the other three for doing so), Angel drove Connor and Dawn to Connor's family's house, where they would be staying for most of the day to celebrate his little sister's birthday, and then he and Buffy went to free Gunn from the hospital at long last. There, they were joined by Anne (who came bearing balloons and chocolate) and Illyria (who watched the proceedings with the same haughtily unreadable expression as usual, though she was once more disguised as Fred).

Buffy still hadn't gotten used to the former god-king, but luckily she hadn't seen much of her. Illyria had taken it upon herself to spend most of her time hunting demons and the rest of it looking for Spike. On the few occasions she had come to the hotel since starting this routine, she gave graphic descriptions of her triumphs over various trivial demonic scum—which were punctuated sporadically by her frustration at the continuing lack of evidence pointing to Spike's whereabouts—and then left to resume her self-appointed mission. Nobody else had been having better luck finding Spike, and Buffy was starting to wonder if she'd triggered another long absence from him. How many was she up to now?

And Gunn, though he still had a few weeks of wheelchair confinement to look forward to, wasn't completely out of the game. "This mean we're back to being Angel Investigations?" he asked after giving the hotel lobby a nostalgic smile.

"Don't see why not," said Angel. "Except we'll be doing some diversifying."

"Training Slayers and Watchers? Yeah, I heard Anne and Buffy talking about that when you guys visited on Wednesday."

"I thought you were asleep then," said Angel suspiciously. Gunn shrugged and gave a slightly mischievous grin as he looked across the lobby towards the large office window, through which the aforementioned pair of blondes could be seen chatting animatedly.

"Sometimes you hear interesting things when people think you're asleep." He shifted in his chair and grimaced as pain jolted through his still healing wounds, and his tone was serious when he spoke again. "You know it's not over with Wolfram and Hart, right?"

"I know."

"They pulled a Final Directive. That's like suicide bomber tactic. It doesn't even leave enough pieces to MacGyver a Plan B. So, when Plan A tanked thanks to us, they pretty much ended up booted from the dimension. But the clients?"

"Still a problem."

"The ones who aren't already too distracted getting arrested or audited, anyway. But we're not dealing with the forgive and forget crowd. They'll be looking to share the hurt." He shook his head. "You know, being here, I keep expecting Wes or Fred or Cordy to walk in."

"You're not the only one."

†

Oz ran a well-callused thumb over his guitar strings. It proved a soothing gesture, so he repeated it.

"Man, I don't know 'ow ye're doin' it," said Lorin ruefully.

"Doing what?" Oz asked.

"Bein' so calm! I almost got sick!"

"Um, hello, are you forgetting that this is Oz?" said Alex. "You have_ met_ him, right?"

"I might not be a native of this dimension, but I've been in it long enough to know that what he's plannin' to do could about give any man a nervous breakdown."

"I dunno; I was okay," said Cole, not looking up from tuning his bass.

"Well, why shouldn't ye've been? You two'd been plannin' on it fer years!"

"Yep, and less than a month to go," said Alex, smiling over at Cole, who did look up this time to smile back at her.

"Can we please talk about something else?" asked Oz abruptly, his expression slightly pained.

"Aha! There you go, Lorin. Looks like he is nervous after all," said Alex.

Lorin looked appeased.

"Well, there is also the subject of what we're gonna do with this 'moving to California' development," said Cole. "And the three of us are graduating," he added, pointing from himself to Oz and Lorin.

"I'll transfer if you need me to," said Alex, "and you said Sam's looking into grad school at UCLA?"

"That she is," said Lorin.

"I've still got my band contacts from when I played for the Dingoes," said Oz. "Getting gigs shouldn't be a problem."

"Sounds like a plan, then," said Cole. He paused for a moment, then asked what everyone else was already thinking. "So, who wants to tell Joe we won't be playing at The Sound for much longer?"

"Not it," said the other three at once.

"Crap," he groaned.

†

After Anne (who was still determinedly playing the hyper-concerned nurse-slash-friend role) took Gunn out for his first non hospital cafeteria dinner since before the battle, Buffy and Angel were left alone in the hotel. Like they had often done in recent weeks, they decided to relieve some of the tension building between them with a sparring match. As Angel was still feeling out his new mortal boundaries, this worked fairly well. At first.

Barefoot and weaponless, they circled slowly in the middle of the lobby, their expressions playful though they maintained loose but guarded fighting stances. The moment images of kissing and other less PG-rated activities with Angel tried to intrude on Buffy's thoughts, she broke the standoff. Angel saw it coming with barely enough time to deflect a jab aimed at his head and then the reverse punch to his chest that followed.

Buffy caught his retaliatory fist before it reached her face, grabbed his outstretched arm up near the shoulder, spun into him, and pulled forward and down. Angel was lifted off his feet and thrown to the ground before he could stop it. He used the momentum of his fall to roll diagonally until he was on his feet again and facing her from a crouch, but he was still a little winded, and he couldn't help but wonder exactly how quickly and resoundingly he would lose if she decided to go all out on him rather than just help him test his limits.

The match continued in like fashion for several minutes. None of the direct blows ever connected, with the majority either deflected or dodged. Neither Buffy nor Angel held the offensive for more than three or four moves in a row, and together they wove back and forth across the lobby, panting from exertion while their ears buzzed from the adrenaline rush and their eyes remained locked on each other.

They weren't quite sure exactly what set it off, but suddenly they weren't having a sparring match anymore. After blocking another short series of punches and a kick, Angel trapped Buffy's arms at her sides, but then hesitated. Their playful smirks simultaneously melted away. He released her only to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him instead, and then they were kissing with as much energy as they'd just been fighting.

As they had agreed upon the week before, Buffy and Angel were pursuing "the dating thing". A lot. Though their interactions had been primarily conversation-heavy, they hadn't been entirely devoid of physical contact either. Still, this was definitely the most heated things had gotten since Buffy arrived in L.A.

Not breaking off the kiss, Buffy let her hands travel upward beneath the front of Angel's plain white undershirt to explore his muscular torso. His hands, in turn, were roaming across her back beneath her spaghetti strap top. After a few moments of this, they began to stagger blindly in what they hoped was the direction of the sofas, but they never got there.

"Oh. Wow," came an utterly bewildered voice from the hotel entrance.

Buffy and Angel jolted apart, still panting both from the sparring match and the accidental make-out session that had followed. The voice belonged to a blonde woman wearing casual but stylish clothes who Buffy had never seen before. The same could not apparently be said of Angel, who had gone rigid. "Nina."

†

Willow was still incredibly frustrated that she couldn't find PEZ-witch, but she had forced herself to take a break from searching, and instead spent a few hours editing Xander and Renée's transcript for the first issue of the comic they wanted to make. And, as far as distractions went, wading through Xander's poor grammar was a fairly effective one. The edited print-out in hand, she found the two of them huddled over Renée's sketchbook at the dining table.

"Here you go," said Willow, handing Xander the transcript.

"Awesome!" he said. "What would we do without you, o wise and glorious one?" She rolled her eyes, but smiled at the praise all the same while he glanced anxiously around the room and let out a sigh of relief. "Keep your voice down, though. I don't want Andrew hovering again. He found out about the comic the other day and tried to convince us to write mechas and an NSTS into the first issue."

"NSTS?" asked Willow, confused.

"Naked silhouette transformation sequence," supplied Renée.

Willow made a face. "You told him that it's supposed to be about things that actually happened, right?"

Xander shrugged. "Guy lives in his fantasy world so much I don't think he knows the difference," he said, "and let me just say that I cannot wait until he heads to Canada to continue his Slayer-finding quest."

"Good point. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll be eaten by a moose. What're you working on here?"

"Character sketches," said Renée.

"Ooh, can I see?" Willow sat down on Renée's other side and looked at the images. "Aww, we look so cute!" Considering that all Renée had to go on were seven-year-older versions of four of the main characters and Xander's descriptions of the others, the likenesses were fairly impressive. Even Cordelia and Dawn, neither of whom Renée had ever seen, were not difficult to identify. There was, however, an exception. As Renée flipped through the drawings, Willow stopped her and gave Xander a stern look.

"This is _not_ what Angel looks like." Willow had no idea how, but it seemed that Xander had somehow managed to convince Renée that Angel was short, pudgy, and had almost caricature-esque facial features.

"Oh, come on, Wil," said Xander, waving his hand at the image. "Cliff-like forehead, porcupine hair; it looks just like him!"

"You should just be glad I saw it before Buffy did."

"What do you mean?" asked Renée, frowning at the drawing. She'd drawn him just like Xander had described.

"Here, let me show you," said Willow. She concentrated on her memories of the previous spring when she went to L.A. to restore Angel's soul. Ignoring Xander, who was using a wide variety of facial expressions from behind Renée's back in a silent attempt to get her to stop, she placed her hands together, then drew them apart, and what resembled a movie clip which featured Angel appeared in mid air between them.

Renée's eyes widened, and after staring at the image for about ten seconds, she tore the offending sketch out of her book, crumpled it up, and tossed it over her shoulder. "Blimey, that one _definitely_ needs to have a bigger role in the second issue," she said appreciatively as she clicked her mechanical pencil and went to work on a more accurate sketch with relish. Willow stifled a giggle at Xander's horrified expression.

Meanwhile, Kennedy observed the exchange from across the room, where she and several of the other girls were detailing their plans for where to go next. As she watched Willow laugh, her somber expression became determined.

†

"Angel. I, uh, I guess that didn't take long," said Nina, looking back and forth between Buffy and Angel and fidgeting with her purse, trying not to let the hurt show on her face.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume you two know each other," said Buffy.

Angel felt incredibly uncomfortable, and Nina answered before he could overcome it. "Uh, yeah," she said, struggling to keep her tone friendly, "we met last fall. He saved me from a werewolf, just…"

"Not fast enough," Angel finished with a grimace.

Buffy's expression became sympathetic. "That's awful," she said.

"Not really," said Nina. She didn't want this woman, whoever she was, feeling sorry for her. "It's pretty much life as usual…as long as I can find a cage for the full moon. I wasn't exactly planning on coming back, Angel, but with the full moon starting tomorrow and me not being able to find a cage…" The intense awkwardness of her tone and posture gave Buffy the distinct impression that she was missing something. The silence spiraled horribly for a moment before Angel snapped.

"Um. Nina, I'll be right back," he said, looking at Buffy and motioning towards the office. She followed him to it and looked over her shoulder at Nina one more time before closing the door behind them.

"Okay, wanna tell me what's going on?" Buffy asked. She could practically see the waves of discomfort rolling off him, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. He opened and closed his mouth a few times with no sound coming out, then took a deep breath and tried again.

"Nina and I were sort of…dating," he finally blurted.

Buffy stared at him blankly for a moment. "_What_?" That one certainly hadn't come up in their many recent conversations.

"It only lasted a couple of weeks," he added quickly. "She wasn't too happy when I offered to get her and her family out of the country before taking on Wolfram and Hart. She stormed off and this is the first time I've seen her since."

Buffy stared at him some more. And then she began to laugh. Angel waited apprehensively. It was not the sort of laughter that was likely to ease his anxiety. "Oh, this is just great," she finally began, her voice loud, hostile, and mildly hysterical, "So, you got Darla pregnant, fell in love with Cordelia, and dated this Nina girl? Anything _else_ you want to tell me?"

Angel's memory briefly flashed back to his mystically-induced encounter with Eve at the Halloween party, but he wisely did not throw fresh fuel on the fire. "I _was_ dating Nina, but…I don't really know what to tell you—I mean, I sort of…forgot about it since you've been in L.A.," he said, running a hand through his hair. She snorted derisively, and it was a few more seconds before he continued in a much more earnest tone. "Buffy, I achieved perfect happiness with you even though the Judge was about to end all innocent life. The time I managed to get to that point without you, the _whole_ picture had to be shining and perfect. And that wasn't even real! I love _you_."

Buffy wavered for a moment under the weight of his gaze and sincerity, but her stony expression remained firmly in place. Seeing another tirade forming, Angel hastily changed tact. "And besides, when I made the decision to start a relationship with Nina, I was an emotionally volatile _Sesame Street_ prop, so it was pretty much doomed from the beginning."

The half-formed retort on its way out of Buffy's throat died as her imagination succeeded in fusing Angel and _Sesame Street_ into a single image. Her anger evaporated and she promptly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Even though this was the good, not-furious-at-Angel kind of laughter, he couldn't help feeling slightly indignant that it was revealing that he'd once been turned into a puppet, as opposed offering his heartfelt declaration of love, that had been what got her to crack.

"Do you mind if I talk to her for a minute?" he asked. Buffy waved him off with one hand while wiping her streaming eyes with the other. When he left the office, she was still doubled over in laughter.

†

Willow reached out to open the door to her room, grinning slightly to herself. Working on the comic book with Xander and Renée had been a lot of fun. But her original mission of the day was not forgotten. She would find PEZ-witch if she had to upturn every last object and piece of furniture in the building. It had made it with her this far, and she wasn't about to lose it now. Especially not when she and Oz were so close. Her smile widened even further at that thought. As soon as she entered the room, however, it vanished, to be replaced by a look of shock which quickly became a glare.

"What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

"Oh, come on, I thought that was obvious," said Kennedy, who was lying in Willow's bed. If her bare arms and shoulders were any indication, she was probably completely naked beneath the covers.

"Okay, I guess it is kind of obvious," Willow allowed. "But what are you doing here?"

Kennedy rolled her eyes and sat up a little straighter. This actually hadn't been Plan A. That would have involved beating Oz to a bloody pulp, but such a plan would hardly have endeared her to Willow, so she decided on something that would hurt him just as much but lacked that principle drawback. "I don't like how we left things, Willow. I made assumptions and stormed off instead of trying to make it work, and I want to make it up to you." Her tone was silky and seductive.

Willow was unimpressed. "And you thought that coming into my room and hopping in my bed was the best way to do that?" she asked with raised eyebrows. She felt bad for the way it ended with Kennedy too, but not in a way that involved regret about the end of the relationship itself, and certainly not in a way that would involve feeling obligated to make up for it with more than words.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well done. Very surprised." Willow sighed resignedly. "Look, I'm sorry for how I handled things in November. It wasn't working and I should have told you instead of pushing you away. You didn't deserve that."

"Well, great. We're both sorry and I miss you, so why don't you come over here and we can forget all about the past?"

"No."

"What, are you worried about your wolf-boy? He doesn't have to find out, if you'd rather play it that way."

Willow twitched. If Kennedy kept talking like that, she would find herself teleported into a very crowded place. Without the comforter and sheet. As fun as that might be, Willow forced the impulse aside. "I love Oz. And, while certainly a major one, he's not the only reason I'm not going to be with you. We were over before you left, and not because of him. Back in Sunnydale, you wanted me and after what I did, I just wanted to be wanted again, so it worked. But after a while I realized that that was all it was for me, and I didn't need it anymore, and I couldn't keep pretending I did."

"But that only started after we came here and ran into him!" she protested.

At this, a thought suddenly struck Willow that didn't exactly help improve her mood. "Did you take PEZ-witch?" she asked.

"Huh? Where the hell did that come from? What's a PEZ-witch?"

"Never mind. Sorry. You can get dressed and get out now. I'll be in there." She pointed at the bathroom, which she then entered, closing the door behind her. Kennedy stared at the wooden surface for a moment, but wasn't about to linger long enough to get weepy or lose her temper. She dressed and departed. It was a very fortunate thing that she did not run across Oz at any point as she made her way back to the room she was sharing with five other Slayers, or he probably would have lost a few limbs.

Willow finished double-checking all the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom in a state of shock, which persisted as she moved back into the bedroom to look through all of the drawers there again as well. When the phone rang just as she was about to shift it aside to see if PEZ-witch was hiding between it and the lamp, she yelped and jumped so hard that she overbalanced and nearly fell over. Recovering, she seized the handset, fumbled it for a second, and put it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to steady her breathing.

"Willow!" It was Buffy.

"Oh, hi!" she said brightly, before frowning. "Is something up?" She reached her free arm beneath the mattress of her bed and felt around, but only came up with some lint. Buffy proceeded to tell her all about the sparring match, what followed, and the arrival of Nina.

"So now I'm waiting in the office while he talks to her and—" She broke off, having just noticed that, though Willow was not speaking, there was a great deal of chaotic, scuffling background noise. "Uh, Wil? What's going on?" The noise stopped and Willow let out a frustrated sigh.

"I still can't find it!"

"Find what?"

"PEZ-witch! I know it's just a little candy dispenser for a kind of candy I don't even like, but as far as sentimental value goes, it's pretty darn close to the top of my list. But I can't find it anywhere!"

Buffy cleared her throat loudly, though she was more amused than impatient.

"Sorry," said Willow, "I'm listening. So, are you thinking this Nina person is like Veruca2.0? Do we need to have a blanket policy against werewolf chicks? Because I'd back you up on that one."

Buffy laughed. "I'm sure you would."

†

"I was only trying to put you and your family on that plane to keep you safe," said Angel. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you or—"

"I know," said Nina, her tone slightly bitter as she recalled her actions. "I've actually been watching the news for a change. A few days after I threw that offer back in your face, Wolfram and Hart's explosive demise makes top story for a week." She shook her head. "I didn't come here to try and get you back or anything, and judging by what I interrupted, I wouldn't have had much luck with that anyway. I made a call and I guess I'm gonna have to live with that. I had to swallow a lot of pride just to get myself to find you so I could ask you to lock me up. Keeping people safe from monster me is more important than the fact that I apparently can't hang onto a guy, right?" Her voice cracked and she looked down at her shoes.

"It's good that you came. There's actually still a cage in the basement that was strong enough to hold me last year when I was evil, so it should be able to hold a werewolf. You're free to use it."

"Thank you."

"I am sorry, Nina. Just because I'm with Buffy again doesn't mean I enjoy rubbing your face in the fact."

"So she's your perfect happiness girl, huh? From before?"

"Yeah." He smiled softly. "She is."

"Congratulations." Nina's pained expression became a frown. "Then how does that work? You can't—" Her eyes widened and she stared at him for a moment, finally realizing something for the first time. Something which her inexperienced werewolf senses had been trying to point out to her since she had first entered the hotel. "You're human."

Angel nodded.

Nina was suddenly looking at him as if he'd sprouted an extra head. "Oh. Okay, well I guess I should get going. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Nobody's going anywhere." Angel and Nina looked around at the voice and their eyes widened in horror. A rabble consisting of about ten demons and vampires was crowded around the entrance. "We've got some complaints about the customer service at Wolfram and Hart, and we decided to take our problems directly to the top."

Perhaps it was due to leftover adrenaline from his sparring match with Buffy, but the instant Angel saw the lead vampire pump a shotgun action, he was able to react just fast enough to grab Nina and roll them both over the lobby counter. They landed heavily and painfully on the floor beside each other as buckshot peppered both the wood behind them and the plaster of the wall in front of them.

"Ah, what a great day to not be bulletproof," Angel muttered as another round followed the first.

†

Buffy heard the first shot just as she was hanging up the phone, and she saw Angel and Nina hit the floor behind the counter. She grabbed the crossbow off the desk and ducked over to join them. "Company?" she asked.

"Ten. Five demons, five vampires," said Angel. "And a shotgun," he added unnecessarily after the third, fourth, and fifth blasts sent several quarter-sized chunks of pillar whizzing over their heads. "But only one. The others are unarmed."

"What's that clicking noise?" whispered Nina, who was shaking slightly with fright. Buffy and Angel listened hard. Nina's more acute hearing had picked it up a lot better, but they could hear it too, now accompanied by cursing.

"He's out," said Buffy. She gripped the crossbow more tightly and stood up. The demons and vampires had advanced to the middle of the lobby, but the vamp with the shotgun was still trying to reload. "You know, genius, those things can hold nine rounds." She squeezed the trigger and the bolt hit him squarely on the left side of his chest before he could do more than look up at her. "If I was gonna let you live, I'd have told you to consider that first next time." The remaining vampires watched their leader's dust drift to the floor in mild anxiety, but the demons seemed thoroughly unconcerned.

The sheer number of weapons Buffy and Angel had looted from the battlefield meant they'd had to get creative with storage space. While before it had seemed a nuisance, it certainly came in handy now, as Angel pulled two broadswords and an axe from the shelf under the counter. He passed the axe to Nina and one of the swords to Buffy. Nina clutched the axe handle nervously and stood up with the other two. She had never done this before, and that time when she'd almost gotten eaten alive hadn't exactly done much for her ability to handle stressful situations. Still, being armed and accompanied by two very experienced fighters rather than being shackled to a food trolley and garnished with vegetables helped a little.

"Anything attacks you, cut its head off," Angel instructed her before sprinting around from behind the counter to meet two of the advancing demons. Buffy simply vaulted over the counter and threw herself into the group. As she had a sword and was standing in the remains of their only armed ally (the shotgun still lay unloaded and useless on the floor), they promptly scattered. While Angel drove his sword through the chest of one of his opponents, Buffy beheaded the nearest vampire and sent a demon toppling into his fellow so they both ended up sprawled on the floor and momentarily dazed.

But the advantage of the lack of storage space turned out to also be a drawback. Three of the surviving seven attackers quickly located weapons just as deadly as theirs for themselves and redoubled their efforts. Buffy took the head off one of the demons who hadn't managed to arm himself yet and hastily ducked beneath the swinging blade of the same greatsword she had used on the battlefield the week before. She then found herself in a fierce swordfight with the demon wielding it.

Angel was so preoccupied with avoiding the spiked mace head whipping through the air in front of him that he didn't notice one of the vampires get behind the counter. Nina raised the axe, but didn't swing it quickly enough. The vampire seized it with both hands, and his far greater strength had soon wrenched it from her grip and sent it clattering to the floor. Once she was disarmed, he grabbed her by the shoulders and sank his fangs into the side of her neck.

After being forced to dive to the ground to prevent himself getting hit by the mace, Angel kicked out viciously at his attacker's legs, sending him toppling over too. Before he could get up, Angel beheaded him with his sword. He got back to his feet in time to see Buffy win her swordfight against the demon, but couldn't watch for too long, because a vampire was running towards him.

Nina's scream was blocked by the one of the vampire's hands, which was suddenly covering her mouth. She struggled, but to her great surprise, he let go and backed away on his own, spitting repeatedly on the floor with a revolted expression. "Okay, major perk of being a werewolf," she muttered weakly. She picked up the axe again and swung it with all her strength at his neck. As he exploded into dust, she collapsed against the wall, panting heavily and holding a shaking hand to the mercifully shallow wound on her throat.

"Well, well, if it isn't the mighty Angelus," the vampire sneered at Angel, who couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sorry, wrong address," he said. "Angelus moved out. I can point you towards his new place if you want, though. You can look him up."

The vampire, who didn't seem too bright, looked confused. "Oh yeah, and where's that?"

"You'll find out for yourself," said Angel as he swung his sword.

Simultaneously beset by the last demon and one of the two remaining vampires, Buffy dove between them in a somersault and heard them collide behind her with an unpleasant crunch. When she turned around, she saw that they had impaled each other. The demon slid to the floor with a dying groan, and she wasted no time dusting the struggling vampire before he could get the sword out of his stomach. She looked up at Angel, who gave her a weary sort of smile before they both turned to see Nina.

"You okay?" asked Angel in concern.

"Yeah, I think so," she said in a rather shrill and breathless voice. "Thanks for saving me from getting shot before. I think I'll just go home now. See you tomorrow." She hurried somewhat unsteadily from the hotel.

"Too much excitement for her?" asked Buffy.

"This was a little different than coming into a secure corporate office building," said Angel, shrugging.

"She didn't do too badly, though. I think I could almost like her."

Angel laughed.

"Whoa. What'd we miss?"

Buffy and Angel looked up to see Connor and Dawn crossing the threshold.

"Unhappy clients," said Angel, putting a hand on his back and wincing as he walked over to collapse on one of the sofas. This was going to feel wonderful in the morning…

"It looks like they would have been better off using the suggestion box," said Dawn.

†

"But we want to get a snack," Laurel protested.

"Second floor is off-limits right now," said Xander stubbornly.

"What for?" asked Erin.

"That's classified."

"Come on, Xander, we're bored and hungry and off-duty."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll come find you when I get the all clear." The two of them sulked away, muttering to each other. Willow passed them and frowned.

"What's up with them?" she asked.

Xander shrugged. "No idea. Headed up?"

"Yeah," she said in a dejected sigh. "I still can't find PEZ-witch. I'm gonna try the second floor again. I might have missed something."

"I'm sure you'll find it," he said confidently.

She gave him a funny look, but headed upstairs anyway. By the time she reached the second floor landing, she could hear a very familiar series of chords floating towards her. A smile spread slowly across her features, so that by the time she saw Oz with his guitar, it had lit up her whole face. He was sitting on the same couch which she vividly remembered lunging across to kiss him the last time he'd played that song there. It didn't seem like a bad idea at the moment, either, but a big enough part of her didn't want to interrupt the song just yet that she contented herself with walking slowly over to him.

"Hey," she said warmly when he finished the chorus.

"Hey," he replied. He put the guitar down gently and looked up at her with a heart-melting half-smile. His brow furrowed momentarily and he reached into his pocket and withdrew PEZ-witch. "Heard you might be looking for this."

Willow blinked as he placed it into her hand. She had been carrying it around often enough over the past several months to be able to tell instantly that it was heavier than usual. She pulled the cartridge out curiously and gasped when something sparkly fell into her palm. She looked up at him again with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna ask you to marry me," he said. "And I'm kinda nervous about it, actually. It's interesting." The combination of déjà vu and rapidly mounting excitement was making Willow dizzy, but not so much so that she couldn't find her voice.

"Oh. Well, if it helps at all, I'm gonna say yes."

"Yeah, it helps; it-it creates a comfort zone." He paused for a fraction of a second, and even that much suspense almost drove Willow crazy. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she said. By then, he had gotten to his feet and taken the ring on her palm. She watched in awe as he slipped it onto her finger. Her face was actually starting to hurt from smiling so widely, but she couldn't stop.

"Well, see, I like that you're predictable," he said, and suddenly dazzled her by breaking into a very full and brilliant smile. She couldn't remember a time when he had ever let this much emotion on his face, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She spoiled it by kissing him then, but neither of them cared.

* * *

*giggle* The drunk vamp at the bar was a fun opener to write. I love the snarky barman. He wins. And then I introduced Willow's storyline with the missing PEZ-witch. So, you see, Oz had been setting this up for at least a day and likely longer. Giles and Xander were totally in on it. You may have noticed that something might be starting between Gunn and Anne. My thinking is that they've been friends at least since _Angel_ season two, and their interactions then hinted that the friendship started much earlier than that, possibly even shortly after Buffy helped her go from being 'Lily' to being 'Anne' in the first place. When Gunn got so badly hurt, she could have realized deeper feelings she had for him, and she's so adorably sweet while being a very strong person that how could someone like Gunn resist? Enter Nina! What lovely timing you have, m'dear. Thought she would be a fun and unexpected last straw for Buffy, who failed to have much of a reaction with all of the rather major revelations she got from Angel in the first episode. Angst with Nina, Buffy yelling at Angel, Buffy laughing at the thought of puppet!Angel (who wouldn't?). All good fun. And then scary seductive Kennedy. Didn't actually plan on writing that scene, but it seemed very in character for her. My only problem was with keeping Willow polite enough throughout it. On the other hand, we have Nina, who is sadly but graciously accepting that she and Angel are over, and subsequently divorcing herself from her very "damsel in distress" role in _Angel_ season five. Fight scene! I got the idea that vamps might not like werewolf blood much from "Phases", which involved Angelus and wolf!Oz growling at each other and backing off without fighting. Finally, proposal scene! *dissolves into unintelligible squee-fit* The credit for that scene must in part go to **Kairos Impending**, who is the genius responsible for Oz hiding the ring inside PEZ-witch. (Go read her fic, "Let Me In", by the way, because it is amazing beyond words.)


	3. 9x03: Previous Engagement

Episode 3: Previous Engagement

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

†

The rest of April passed in a flurry of activity, both in Cleveland and L.A. With the help of Gunn, Anne, Connor, Dawn, and occasionally Illyria, Nina, and Kate, Buffy and Angel had the Hyperion looking practically brand new and ready to be a Watcher and Slayer academy within a matter of weeks. A few of the fifth floor rooms were still beyond their help, but Buffy was confident that Xander's construction expertise (when combined with the evidently endless generosity of multi-billionaire David Nabbit) would have all sixty-eight rooms in excellent condition before long.

Their efforts had, unsurprisingly, been hindered on occasion by the appearance of more vengeance-seeking former Wolfram and Hart clients. The third time this happened, to the mild surprise of all, it had been the still wheelchair-confined Gunn who saved the day with a quick spin that tripped the irate demon across his leg cast, followed by some awkward but effective left-handed sword action.

To Angel's slight mortification, Buffy had also spent a great deal of time helping—or, more accurately, forcing—him to obtain—or, more accurately, forge—proper documentation of his existence. Though the afternoon spent at the DMV would forever be a blight upon his memory, the most notable portion of this quest to provide him with birth certificate, social security card, driver's license, passport, diplomas, etc. was the hunt for a suitable surname.

"Aw, why not?" Buffy had asked, pouting, at Angel's unceremonious rejection of her umpteenth suggestion, for which he hadn't so much as looked up from his sketchbook.

"No," he repeated.

"Come on. You only said it had to be Irish. According to this website, 'Darcy' is an Irish name," she said innocently.

"You're not naming me after a _Pride and Prejudice_ character, no matter how much you think we have in common," he said, the shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips.

_Dang. So much for that fantasy_, Buffy thought. "Then…what about 'Lynch'?" she asked halfheartedly.

"I don't really want to be reminded of the time I actually got lynched in this hotel every time I pull out my driver's license," he said dully.

Buffy grimaced. "Sorry."

"Why do we have to do this anyway? 'Angel' can be a last name."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "But what's your first name, then?"

"Liam. That's what it was before Darla turned me."

"Why didn't you say that before? That makes this much easier."

"How?"

"Now I can rule out the last names that don't sound good with Liam." Angel groaned.

After thirty more overturned suggestions and the accidental discovery that "Summers" and "Harris" both had Irish roots, Buffy found one that caught her notice as none of the others had. She leaned closer to the screen and read all of the history and information about the name, growing more attached to it all the time.

"Gallagher?" she finally asked, hoping to convey by her tone that this one had her vote.

Angel didn't reply for so long that she was about to repeat it, when… "No."

"Aha! You hesitated. You're just saying 'no' by reflex now, even though you like it." He actually looked up from the sketchbook for the first time since she had begun pelting surname ideas across the office at him, and her triumphant smirk melted into something of a concerned frown. "What?"

"That _was_ my last name."

"It was your—this doesn't say anything about any Gallaghers from Galway, though," she said, too dazed that the name she had preferred had been his real name to be annoyed that he hadn't saved her the trouble of finding it by telling her sooner.

"It wouldn't," said Angel shortly, his expression darkening ominously. "There weren't any left there after I was done with the place."

"Oh," said Buffy quietly. For a moment, she watched him try and fail to continue working on the new drawing he had just started before she got up from her chair and walked around the desk to join him on the sofa. She placed a hand on his cheek and gently turned his face until he was forced to look her in the eyes.

"You think you don't deserve to have that name again?" His lack of reply was enough to tell her she had guessed right, and she sighed mentally. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to completely rid him of his self-loathing, but she wasn't about to stop trying. "It's the name your family gave you, Angel. No matter what Angelus did to them, they're still part of you. You don't have to hide from that by putting something random on your nametag instead." She leaned in slowly and kissed him. The sketchbook slid to the floor with a soft _thump_ that went unnoticed by its owner, whose attention was now focused on conveying through the kiss how much he loved this incredible woman, and how much he appreciated that she was there in his life, in his arms.

†

Meanwhile, in Cleveland, so many of the Slayers who had been staying at Summers' Academy for Girls had returned home that by the end of the month, there were fewer occupants than rooms for the first time since they had arrived, to the great relief of everyone who remained. Kennedy and Andrew had departed once more to continue the search for additional Slayers in need of training, but Faith and Wood had remained to help with the monstrous task of organizing active Slayers worldwide—not to mention that staying in one place made wedding preparations a great deal easier than they would have been with the same nomadic sort of lifestyle they had adopted in Europe.

Faith found that she regretted the decision to stay in Cleveland until the wedding more and more—but not as much as the unfortunate girls who tried to throw her a bridal shower, all of whom had narrowly escaped painful injury. In fact, only Willow and Alex could get away with expressing excitement for Faith at all; Willow because she was now also engaged, and Alex because she was already married. The day after her late April birthday, she and Cole had appeared at headquarters with matching silver bands on their left ring fingers, and that had been the rather anticlimactic end of the matter—except for when Cole would occasionally shudder upon realizing that he now had a very overbearing Italian mother-in-law with whom he had to live until he and Alex could escape to L.A.

For Giles, it had not been an entirely enjoyable month. Reorganizing and reforming an institution that had met an explosive end the year before was no small task, and the stressful burden only seemed to grow the farther he progressed. The more relatives or friends of old and obscure acquaintances with Council connections he recruited, the more people he then had to include in his planning. The more Slayers who went home to protect their own towns, the more he had to work at keeping in touch with them.

It wasn't that he didn't have help. Willow, Oz, Faith, Wood, and Vi had all gone out of their way to do whatever they could, and Vi, at least, was so enthusiastic about offering her assistance that Giles had begun to be slightly terrified of her. Even with their combined efforts, however, it was still a daunting venture. It certainly did not help Giles's nerves or mood that he kept happening upon Xander and Renée, who seemed to find it constructive to make graphic novels instead of proper records of past events. But the final straw did not come until the first of May, when he had looked up from his ever-thickening file of contact information to see Willow and Oz huddled over one of the computers.

"What's this?" he asked indignantly, gesturing at the screen. "You're supposed to be helping me reorganize the Council, not using these absurd machines to make, er, bogs!"

"Pretty sure you mean 'blogs', Giles," said Oz, "which this isn't."

Giles colored, and Willow determinedly avoided her fiancé's gaze. "And we are helping," she said once it was safe for her to speak without danger of erupting into giggles. "Look, this is the login page. Any Slayer on solo duty can make an account and keep us posted with the stuff going on there. That way if there's big trouble, we can send backup to her. Eighty-three of them already have accounts, and Watchers can make them too, since not all of them are as cyberphobic as you, and there's forum space for them to compare notes on demonic activity or training techniques or whatever. And it keeps a list of the Slayers who don't have Watchers yet."

"Also," added Oz, "take it from a couple of hackers, this baby is hack-proof."

Willow nodded. "Only Watchers and Slayers, plus us Scoobies, can get to the serious Watcher/Slayer/Council networking parts of the site. That's less of a coding thing and more of a, uh, mystical identity verifying thing. Oh, and that also means that if some Slayer we haven't found yet tries to Google why she's got super-strength and is having dream memory things about monsters or previous Slayers, this pops up as the first result."

Very much against his will, Giles was impressed. Still, he did not trust computers, and he trusted the Internet even less. "How can you be sure this won't draw unwanted attention to our, erm, operations?"

"If anyone else stumbles across it, it just looks like an RPG fansite," said Willow. "And that's where we're posting Xander and Renée's comic. There are lots of online comics, so it doesn't stand out."

"You know," Oz interjected thoughtfully, "I'm not sure they're really tapping into the full potential of the idea with a comic. I still say they'd go farther with some stop-motion animation."

†

The thirteenth of May finally rolled around to see Buffy, Angel, and Dawn waiting at LAX to board a plane to Cleveland. While Dawn had finished her AP tests and was pretty much done for the school year, Connor's final exams were upon him, so he was unable to take a weekend off studying to come. Not to mention that nobody in Cleveland even remembered he existed, if they had known about him in the first place, so he wouldn't really be missed.

To the intense relief of both Buffy and Angel, the latter's shiny new legal identity as "Liam Gallagher" had gotten him through airport security without a second glance, and they made it to their terminal without incident. But there was still the matter of getting on the plane.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just drive there?" Angel muttered, casting an uneasy glance out the window at the plane waiting for them.

"Because then we'd miss the wedding," said Buffy, though she privately agreed; she didn't like flying any better than he did. "Since Faith wants you to give her away and me to be her maid of honor, and since she has some experience in the area of beating the crap out of both of us, missing it would not qualify as a wise move."

"Okay, then why couldn't Willow just teleport us there?"

"Because that's not the only option, and there's not an emergency. She also said something about the distance making it a lot less pleasant for passengers." Buffy looked nervously out at the plane too, then shuddered and clutched Angel's hand a little more tightly.

Dawn readjusted her heavy backpack on her shoulder and rolled her eyes at the exchange. Buffy noticed this and frowned. "What?"

"Oh, come on! You two have been fighting evil and saving the world for how long? And you're afraid of spending a few hours in a plane?" This would be Dawn's first time on one, and she wasn't going to let their spaz attacks ruin the experience for her. At her words, they both looked rather sheepish, but did not relinquish the tight grips they had on each other's hands.

Once on the plane, Dawn happily took the window seat of their row, which saved Buffy and Angel the trouble of forcing her to, and they filed in after her. About two and a half hours later, while Dawn was engrossed in a slightly battered library copy of _Order of the Phoenix_ and Buffy was asleep, using her fold-out tray as a pillow, Angel got up and headed for the bathroom at the back of the plane. He had just reached for the door when he got the shock of his life.

"Hi!" said Willow brightly, waving.

"Willow! What the—how did you get up here?" he asked in a bewildered whisper.

"I'm not _here _here, I'm at headquarters," she said, and before he could do anything but look even more confused, she elaborated, "Astral projection." To illustrate, she waved a hand _through_ his head, which, while effective, was deeply unsettling.

"Okay, then…why?" Willow cast an anxious glance over his shoulder at the other passengers, all of whom were facing the front, and gestured at the curtain hiding the emergency exit, which she then walked through. Angel shook his head and slipped behind the curtain after her. "What's going on?"

"We have kind of a…a problem," she said, her expression deadly serious.

†

Oz was careful not to show any reaction when Willow went limp beside him. He cast a wary glance around at the dozen or so large, black clad, rifle-wielding special ops agents who were prowling about the floor. The past hour was a chaotic blur in his memory. A rather mind-blowing make-out session with Willow had been interrupted by the arrival of these men, the leader of whom had flashed an official badge, which declared him and his fellows to belong to a government-funded supernatural taskforce. This effectively forced them to comply with his wishes, which had so far included sending his minions to practically ransack the place and pull tranquilizer guns on all of the Slayers present. Now they all sat in a huddle on the floor with the taskforce watching them like hawks, and apart from Wood's frequent attempts at negotiating with them, the best they could do was have Willow astral project to make sure Buffy didn't fall into the same trap.

Thanks to the highly sensitive hearing that enabled him to easily eavesdrop on the whispered conversations of the intruders without their noticing, Oz probably had a better grasp on what was going on than anyone else. It seemed that the government was under the impression that everyone at headquarters was affiliated with Wolfram and Hart. As such, they were _obviously_ either sitting atop some great stash of illegal money (which could be repossessed) or trying to revive the firm.

Apparently, the government had already met with a great deal of trouble from some actual Wolfram and Hart clients or associates, so by the time they decided to follow up on the lead that dropped them at the doorstep of Summers' Academy for Girls, which had indeed been established on the firm's funding, they were very much of the shoot first, ask questions later mentality. But if these guys really were against Wolfram and Hart, and the guns continued to contain tranquilizer darts instead of bullets, Oz was confident that there stood a fair chance of the whole thing blowing over as a simple misunderstanding. That, of course, only worked as long as nobody on their side did anything stupid.

"Think we could take these guys out if we had to?" Xander asked from Oz's other side, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulled Renée (whose head was lolling and limbs were sagging from the effects of the drug) more securely against himself as soon as the nearest special ops guy turned around, and his hands balled into fists.

"Maybe," said Oz. He was pretty sure that even with the Slayers drugged, they had a few tricks up their sleeves which their unwanted guests wouldn't see coming. Using them, however, would definitely fall under the umbrella of "anything stupid". "But these aren't just bounty hunters or something," he elaborated. "You take out government guys, they don't just go away. Which is pretty much why we didn't take them out in the first place."

"Right. How's Giles doing down there?"

"About how you'd expect."

"Making head special ops guy look like an idiot?"

"Yep."

On the floor below them, Giles was resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity of both the situation and the obstinate little man before him, who gave him a feeling unpleasantly akin to the one he had so frequently felt in the presence of Principal Snyder: powerful loathing lightly seasoned with derision.

"If you're so determined to keep Wolfram and Hart down, er," he quickly noted both the name and silver bar on the man's uniform, "Lieutenant Eckhardt, then why didn't you ever fight it while it was still on this dimension?"

"The firm was very…active on all levels of the economy. Lots of connections, lots of influence. We felt interference would have been…detrimental to the system as a whole."

"Interesting," said Giles. He removed his glasses and slowly and thoroughly polished them with his handkerchief. "Of the two reasons I could see for such long inaction, that was neither."

"Oh?" said Eckhardt coolly.

"Either," Giles began, his tone sardonic, "you did nothing because you stood to gain from the, er, activities of the firm…or you knew you would not be able to destroy it even if you tried. Though I suppose it could just has easily have been both. And the same still applies. Obviously the economy has endured none of this great detriment you claim to have feared with the loss of Wolfram and Hart, which someone else defeated for you, leaving you in a prime position to reap the benefits of its downfall from any of its nefariously wealthy and now legally helpless clients. Which, I expect, is why you're here now."

"Smart thinking."

"I'm afraid, however, that in your inspections of this place, you will find neither Wolfram and Hart clientele nor wealth. This is a private school. You have already checked our documentation and student files and found them to be in order. Also, a minor point of interest: the Wolfram and Hart employee whose signature is on the grant that funded this school was one of the ones responsible for the downfall of the firm. That man gave his life trying to break its power, and we are all greatly indebted to him for that."

"Even if that is true, what we _have_ found may be of still greater value. My boys tell me there's an armory's worth of medieval weaponry in the basement, and we're getting threat readings greater than we get for the average demon off almost every single girl in this building. So just what the hell kind of operation are you running in this 'private school' of yours, English?"

†

"Okay, since there's an actual 'emergency', can't you teleport us there _now_?" asked Angel once Willow had explained the situation.

"We're already having issues with the government! I can't just make three passengers vanish from an airplane! They think we're trying to bring Wolfram and Hart back or that we've been using their money to create super-soldiers or something because you got them to fund headquarters a year ago; we don't need them thinking we're terrorists too! I just came to give you the heads up so you don't get captured when you get there. Hopefully we'll be able to innocent-until-proven-guilty our way out of this."

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess too," he said, thinking of all the other fallout from the firm's demise they'd already been dealing with.

"What?" she said. "You mean about using Wolfram and Hart's money to pay for headquarters?" He nodded, and Willow made an impatient noise. "Don't apologize for that, 'cause I'm pretty sure that was the best thing their money ever got spent for, and there's no way we would have been able to do everything we did in Cleveland without that place. We'll deal with this."

Angel smiled a little. "It's good to see you again."

"Yeah. I'd hug you if I were solid. How's life with the actually being alive treating you?"

His smile widened, but he couldn't really put his answer to words without saying quite a few more of them than he generally liked to. Willow seemed to understand, though, and she smiled broadly back at him. It slipped away shortly thereafter, however, to be replaced by a slightly panicked expression. "I probably should get back."

"Yeah. Be careful," said Angel. "I'll, uh, hopefully see you soon."

She nodded, and the next time he blinked, she had vanished. He pulled the curtain aside to return to his seat and relay the information to Buffy and Dawn, only to come face to face with a very stern-looking middle-aged flight attendant. He recoiled slightly.

"Passengers are not allowed behind there unless there is an emergency," she said coldly. Even though technically there _was_ an emergency, Angel very much doubted that it would make any difference to this woman.

"Sorry," he said, edging awkwardly around her. "I was just going to the bathroom." He fumbled at the latch behind him and quickly retreated into the miniscule lavatory. The flight attendant continued to stare beadily at him right until the door was closed.

†

Faith shook her head, trying to clear it. The bleariness was slowly ebbing from her system, and part of her was itching to snap the neck of the bastard who'd shot her—and maybe those of a few of the others for good measure. She was surprised at how strong the impulse was; she hadn't felt that close to snapping in years. But she wasn't going to. As far as these men knew, she was Hope Torrence, the average model citizen, and she couldn't give them any reason to doubt that. What was really keeping her calm, though, was Robin's hand running soothingly across her back. She let herself bask in that for a moment, but then her anger returned, burning a little stronger than before. All bets would be off if these guys got between her and her wedding.

Several drugged Slayers over from them, Willow suddenly jerked back to life, and Xander pretended to sneeze to cover her loud involuntary gasp. "Bless you," said the nearest special ops guy automatically.

"How'd it go?" asked Oz.

"They know," said Willow.

"All right," said Xander, "so do we have a plan?"

"Wait," said Oz, his brow furrowing suddenly. He didn't like where the conversation downstairs was headed.

†

"Is there some law against owning medieval weaponry?" asked Giles, choosing to ignore the man's other question.

"Not in the strictest sense," Lieutenant Eckhardt allowed grudgingly, "but what are they doing in the same building as teenage girls?"

"They are used for training in the martial arts," Giles replied. "Many of the girls bring their own styles and disciplines to the school, and with them, their own weaponry."

"But they're not just girls, are they, Mr. Giles? You know what it was about them that triggered those readings. I think my superiors will be very interested in this." Giles felt the anger rising in him, but didn't let it show on the surface.

"If you think, as other fools have before you, that you can take the power these girls have and use it for your own purposes, you are sorely mistaken. And I will not allow you to use them as lab rats until you finally figure that out for yourself."

"Well, unfortunately, you aren't in a position to make that call." He held his walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Sergeant? Secure the girls. I'm calling in backup and we're packing them away."

†

Angel peeled out of the rental lot, but quickly realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was going. "Uh, someone want to give me directions?" he asked. "This place has changed a lot since the Progressive Era." Buffy was about to give an amused reply when Willow appeared in the backseat next to Dawn. It was very lucky that Angel had already seen her do that, or they probably would have wrecked. As it was, only Buffy and Dawn jumped.

"What's happening now?" asked Buffy anxiously. "And, hi."

"Hi," she said. "Okay, it's worse. It's like the Initiative all over again. The leader guy wants to take all of the Slayers at headquarters somewhere, because he wants to know why they're so strong. Stop that!" Dawn had been poking her forefinger through the side of Willow's incorporeal head, looking fascinated. At the reprimand, she stopped and withdrew her hand with a short, apologetic laugh.

"If we can get everyone out of there, do you think you can teleport us someplace safe? We can't let them experiment on us."

"I know. I'll find you again if anything else happens."

†

"Hey, why's she out when we didn't drug her?" asked one of the special ops guys, pointing at Willow with his rifle.

"What, we're not allowed to take naps now?" said Xander. Fortunately, before the man could get close enough to find out if Willow really was asleep, she jerked awake again. He narrowed his eyes at her before walking away. "You can't do this," Xander called at his retreating back, unable to help himself. "Those are human girls you're drugging and tying up! They're innocent, and they have people who care about them. Families, friends." He looked at the semi-conscious Renée, and the sense of being uselessness personified was maddening. "How do you justify that?"

To his credit, the man looked shamefaced. "We're just following orders," he said, not meeting Xander's one-eyed glare.

"Willow, now would be a good time to whip out the mojo and stop them, yeah?" Xander hissed at his best friend.

"We have no supplies and are tied up," she said flatly. "Also, offensive magic hasn't really been my forte since I went all veiny and tried to destroy the world with it."

Xander struggled violently against his bonds, but got nowhere and swore under his breath. Willow barely noticed; she was too preoccupied by horrible mental images of the day Oz had been captured by the Initiative. She wasn't sure she trusted herself not to turn to dark magic if they took him away from her again.

†

"Oh, fun, there's a whole armored van of them," Buffy observed, "Not sure how many are in there."

"Plus two at the door," added Angel. They had parked the car half a block away before sneaking to the hedge outside of the Academy's parking lot.

"Okay, since they're armed and we're not, isn't that kind of a lot to take on directly?" asked Dawn.

"Yes it is," said Buffy, not taking her eyes off the van. "Which is why we're going to use bait."

"Bait? What kind of bait are we supposed to use on them?" asked Angel.

Buffy grinned evilly and looked at Dawn. "Jailbait."

Dawn's jaw dropped. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Nope."

"But—wha—why can't you do it? You'd be okay with her doing it, right Angel?" she asked him pleadingly. His expression was not encouraging.

"That's not the point," said Buffy patiently. "Slayers show up as a threat on their scanner things somehow. Also, of the two of us, I'm the one with the better chance of knocking them out with one blow from behind." Dawn made an exasperated noise deep in her throat.

"You owe me."

"I love you!" said Buffy cheerfully.

Dawn stuck her tongue out at her. "Keys," she said, turning to Angel and holding her hand out.

"What?" asked Buffy, even as Angel made to give Dawn the keys.

"Well, if I'm going to pretend I'm lost on the way to the mall, I need to have a car," she said condescendingly.

"You can drive?" asked Buffy.

Dawn smugly held up her plastic rectangular answer.

"You have a driver's license? I don't have a driver's license! When did you get that?"

"Driver's Ed. Last semester."

"My six years younger sister learned how to drive before I did. I can never show my face in public again."

Dawn took the keys from Angel and vanished from sight.

"You know, I could teach you how to drive," said Angel.

"That'll make you about the millionth one to try."

"I still would, if you wanted me to…"

"You're sweet." They smiled at each other, but the sound of Dawn approaching in the car brought them back to the present. From their hiding place, they saw a couple of the guys in the van climb out warily when Dawn pulled into the parking lot. She parked and got out, tossing her long hair and twirling the keys around her finger as she walked towards them, playing the innocent yet alluring damsel in distress role so well it should have been fined. They could hear her saying something about being lost as they crept around to the other side of the van. The guy standing outside it collapsed after taking one of Buffy's elbows to the jaw. She quickly relieved him of his tranquilizer gun, which she passed to Angel as she climbed into the van and made short work of the three waiting there. She grabbed two more of the guns, then hopped back out in time to see Angel taking down the two guarding the door with a tranquilizer dart to the throat each, and she did the same to the two with whom Dawn was still flirting. Dawn shuddered and jogged over to join them.

"Never EVER again," she said.

"What? It can't have been that bad," said Buffy.

"They were already asking for my number!" said Dawn irritably.

"Nice going!" said Buffy, smirking.

Dawn rolled her eyes and took one of the tranquilizer guns. "I already _have_ a boyfriend, thank you."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "You sure you and Connor have to date?"

"Hey!" said Dawn sourly. "I thought you liked him!"

"I do like him! He's responsible and funny and a gentleman, but—"

Dawn saw the objection before it arrived and immediately countered it. "It's not like either of us knew he was Angel's son at first, but we still aren't biologically related _at all_, and he's only two years older than me!"

"Even though he was technically only born two and a half years ago?"

"Who am I to get technical about that? _Technically_, I haven't existed for four whole years yet. _You_ aren't weirded out by me and Connor, are you Angel?" They both looked at him for his answer.

"Hey, I'm pretty much fine with anything that doesn't put me in a love triangle with my kid," he said, holding up his hands.

"Eugh. Good point," said Buffy, making a face.

"Ready to storm the castle now?" he asked.

Dawn snickered. "The Dread Pirate Roberts takes no survivors!" she said in a deep voice.

Buffy snorted, but Angel looked perplexed. Noticing this, she sighed. "When this is over, we are watching that movie."

"Okay. Let's go," he said. The three of them made sure their guns were loaded before heading up the front steps. Buffy swiped her key card and forcefully pushed the door open.

"I thought I told you to wait outside!" came an impatient voice.

"Sorry," said Buffy, "sometimes I have a problem following orders." The man whipped around and gaped at her. Giles stood several feet away from him, smirking. The handful of special ops men on the floor looked uncertainly from their commander to the new arrivals. "Whatever you were planning on doing to my girls, it ends now. And it can either end with a lot of pain, or with you and your men sitting quietly and counting your toes."

"You're on very dangerous ground," he said, even as he put his hands up.

"Why? It's not like I attacked first. You think a shiny badge gives you the right to drug a bunch of girls, most of whom are underage, when they haven't done anything illegal?" One of the men was edging around, trying to sneak up on them. He didn't get much closer before Angel stopped pretending not to notice him and rammed the butt of his rifle under his chin, and he collapsed.

"I'm afraid reason won't get you very far with Lieutenant Eckhardt here," said Giles.

"You won't be getting very far at all," said Eckhardt. "Backup's here." Right at his words, the door burst open behind them.

"Not good," said Dawn.

"Drop your weapons," a voice commanded as twenty or so men poured into the building. Gritting her teeth, Buffy let the tranquilizer gun clatter to the floor. At either side of her, Angel and Dawn did the same. Slowly, she turned to face the newcomer.

"Buffy Summers?"

She blinked and looked more closely at the man who had spoken, who was pulling off his black helmet so she could get a better look at his face. It took her a moment, but she finally recognized him. "Graham?" she asked in astonishment.

Graham Miller smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back, feeling hopeful.

"What's going on, Miller?" asked Eckhardt harshly.

"That's _Captain_ Miller, Lieutenant," said Graham with a slight scowl, which was nothing compared to Eckhardt's obvious displeasure that a man more than twenty years his junior outranked him. He fixed his gaze back on Buffy. "Mind telling me what's going on? And why there are seven unconscious men outside?"

"Eckhardt here barged in and made assumptions. Now he wants to take a bunch of my friends with him. I'm not going to let that happen." Her tone was still friendly, but the challenge in her words was clear. Graham nodded, frowning slightly.

"Tell your men to stand down, Lieutenant."

"_What_?" Eckhardt bellowed.

"That's an order," said Graham calmly. "I was in Sunnydale long enough to learn that you don't get very far once Buffy Summers sees you as the bad guy. So stand the hell down, or I'll see you in court martial for insubordination and disorderly conduct."

Positively seething with rage, Eckhardt held up the walkie-talkie and told the men on the second floor to release the girls and leave. Moments later, the whole special ops team came down the stairs and walked past them and out the door. Graham's men followed suit.

When only he and Eckhardt remained in the room with Buffy, Angel, Dawn, and Giles, Graham walked up to Eckhardt and towered menacingly over him. "You try a preemptive move like this again, and I'll have you pulled from the Division." Eckhardt nodded, the muscles in his jaw tightening visibly. Graham continued to glare at him until he was out of the building, then turned to face Buffy again. "I'm sorry for whatever trouble he caused." He hesitated, looking as if something had just clicked in his mind. "According to the report he sent when asking for reinforcements, he thought you were using the students of the school to build an army of super-strong soldiers, but now that I know who's in charge, I'm guessing that's not the case."

"The girls are Slayers like me," said Buffy. "We're training them so they'll be better prepared to protect their hometowns from demons when they're done here."

"And I'm guessing we've got you to thank for the massive decrease in demonic activity in Cleveland?"

"We do what we can," she said.

"I'll make sure you can keep doing it."

"Thank you."

Graham gave all four of them a final nod before departing. As soon as he managed to close the damaged door behind him, Dawn launched herself at Giles and hugged him tightly. "Hi Giles!" she said.

"Yes, hello Dawn," Giles gasped, hugging her back a little awkwardly.

Dawn released him and looked around the room properly. "Wow… So this is headquarters?" she said appreciatively, before darting to the stairs and up them. Buffy smiled and went after her.

"Angel, a word?" said Giles when Angel made to follow.

†

Buffy and Dawn arrived on the second floor to find the Slayers there staggering to their feet. Almost everyone was rubbing red welts on their wrists. Dawn ran over to Xander and Willow and hug-attacked them in much the same way as she had Giles. Buffy grinned at them, but made her way instead towards Faith and Wood.

"How're you holding up?" she asked, watching Faith wobble and seize Wood's arm for support.

"Five by five, B," said Faith wearily.

"I'm glad."

"How did you get them to leave?" asked Wood.

"They called in the cavalry, who happened to like me better than them."

"Small world."

"So, now that I'm here and the government conspiracy is out of the way, do I get to see the dresses?" Faith smirked, and Buffy hesitated as an unwelcome thought occurred to her. "Mine doesn't have leather on it, does it?"

†

"As I understand from the telephone calls I've been receiving from Buffy since March, you and she are, erm, dating again, yes?" said Giles.

Angel nodded. He was pretty sure he knew where this was headed.

"The fact that the two of you have been rather abused by circumstance in the past aside, you did put her through a world of emotional agony last time."

"I know," said Angel. With a guilt complex like his, he really didn't need Giles' help to feel horrible about that.

"Angel, you have earned my deepest respect for what you and your companions accomplished in L.A., but, as you probably expect, if you hurt Buffy again, I will do to you everything Angelus did to me and more."

"I'm not going to deny that I'd deserve it, but all I want is to make her happy. Now that I'm allowed to, I'll do whatever it takes."

"And I wish you every success. Few things in my life have been more difficult than watching her brave through her loneliness this past year." His eyes crinkled affectionately as he stared past Angel. "I suspect I may be biased, but she really is the most remarkable young woman I've ever met." Angel smiled in agreement.

†

To Buffy's relief, her dress did not, in fact, involve leather of any kind. It was a simple floor-length pale gold gown with thin straps and an empire waistline. Faith's dress predictably showed a lot more skin, but it was surprisingly conventional compared to what Buffy had imagined. It, too, was floor-length, and made of creamy, antique white material that was partially hidden beneath a translucent layer of the same gold as Buffy's dress.

The wedding itself, which took place at a small nearby church the following afternoon, was very short. This was due largely to Faith, who just wanted to get it over with before either the government or some sort of hell beast could get the chance to drop in and ruin it. Wood, on the other hand, clearly couldn't have cared less how the wedding went as long as it ended with him being married to the woman he loved.

Afterward, instead of a lavish reception like the one that had followed Lorin and Sam's wedding the previous fall, there was simply a party at headquarters. Whatever aversion Faith had towards being congratulated had mostly evaporated, and her smile was genuine.

†

"Well, if it isn't Dead Boy," said Xander when Angel entered the kitchen to get more punch for himself and Buffy. Somehow the two of them had managed to avoid each other until then, despite spending most of the last twenty-four hours in the same building. Angel scowled at Xander, who amended thoughtfully, "Or, well, I guess it's Not-So-Dead Boy now."

"Xander," Angel acknowledged. Fortunately, Buffy and Renée chose that moment to find them.

"I hope you're playing nice," said Buffy, giving Xander a rather threatening smile before turning to Angel. "Dance with me?" Angel's expression became panicked, and she rolled her eyes. "Relax; it's a slow song." She took his hand and pulled him back to the main room, where the newlyweds and Willow and Oz were already dancing.

"Aren't they so romantic?" asked Renée, sighing.

"'Revolting' is more the word I'd go with," Xander muttered.

"What?" she asked vaguely, looking back at him.

"Nothing. Let's dance." With that, they followed Buffy and Angel to the dance floor.

When the song was almost over, Buffy, who briefly had a clear view of the stairs, realized that a casually dressed Graham was standing there. Wondering what that was about, but enjoying the dance too much to interrupt it, she waited until the final chords faded away, gave Angel a brief kiss, and walked over to Graham. Angel, meanwhile, spotted Faith and took the opportunity to congratulate her and Wood.

"Thanks," they said together, both grinning.

"And Faith tells me there's a lot more we should be thanking you for," Wood added.

"Not a lot. She did most of it herself."

"Don't be so modest, big guy," Faith laughed, pulling him into a short hug. "Whatever I did, it was still you who pointed me in the right direction." She sobered slightly. "Wish Wes could have been here, though."

"Me too," said Angel gruffly. "He'd have been proud." There was a short pause, punctuated slightly by the next song starting up loudly, and he decided to switch to a less painful subject. "Where are you headed next?"

†

"So," said Buffy lightly, "I guess the door's broken after all."

"Sorry about that," said Graham. "Was there a wedding or something?"

"Yeah. Those taskforce guys were lucky they didn't mess it up. That wouldn't have gone over very well with the bride, and she's kinda violent." She eyed him suspiciously. "As much as I appreciate what you did for us yesterday, I know you can't be here to make small talk. Why did you come back?"

"I discussed yesterday's incident—and the situation here, as far as I understand it—with the head of the Division. What you're doing is important, and we're prepared to renew the grant Wolfram and Hart gave you to fund this place when it expires."

Buffy looked at him shrewdly. "No strings attached?" she asked.

"No strings attached," he said. "The Division isn't the Initiative, as much as the lieutenant wants it to be."

"I'll take it," she said. "I was really starting to worry what we'd do when the grant money ended."

"And now you don't have to."

"Thank you. Really. And, uh, if you want to join the party, you're welcome to. It's the least we can do after everything you've done."

Graham shrugged and nodded; it wasn't as if he had more exciting plans. Buffy smiled and left him there. She passed Vi heading the other way. The younger Slayer wore a curious but determined expression and carried two cups of punch, but Buffy was too busy wondering how good her chances were of convincing Angel to dance to the much faster song that was currently playing to ask her about it. Ultimately, she figured her chances were probably next to zero, but she would try anyway just to see what excuses he would come up with to get out of it.

* * *

I tried to ask Joss what Angel's last name really was when he was Liam, but he didn't pick my question to answer out of all the other ones posted, so I finally caved and invented one myself, which was something I had been determined never to do. For some reason, most people seem to be fond of "O'Connor" as a possible option. To me, that's just silly, because if Angel's last name really was O'Connor, then that would make Connor's full name "Connor O'Connor". I loved putting in that _Pride and Prejudice_ reference. Bwaha. Buffy is a Mr. Darcy groupie (who isn't?). Willow and Oz's website. Really, it's the only thing that makes sense now that the operation is so massive. Oz's last line there about stop-motion animation was a nod to Seth Green's _Robot Chicken_ (even though I have seen very little of it). The trouble with the special ops team was very much the "caught between a rock and a hard place" sort of thing, because getting hauled off would be bad, but fighting back and making the government even angrier at you and giving them a better reason to haul you off in the first place would be worse. Giles got to be pretty awesome with the logic in this episode. I had a lot of fun writing his lines. Dawn being bait makes me laugh. Some quick violence and then some sibling banter, and then storming the castle. And then things could have gotten a whole lot worse, until...Graham! He was one of my favorite minor characters. He's large and adorable and sensible and I just want to hug him. Then all is well and we get on with the reunion of Buffy, Angel, and Dawn with the other main characters. Yay! (Remember that Dawn has not seen these people for a year, and Angel has not seen some of them for five.) Giles threatening/encouraging Angel was another fun scene to write. And then the first successful wedding between actual Buffyverse characters...ever. The irony that Faith was one of those characters: not lost on me. I let the wedding actually happen because...I'm not Joss. Also, this is pretty much the age at which people start to get married. The dresses made me happy. Xander and Angel meet again, and have grown no fonder of each other since they parted. That's going to be interesting. Angel and Faith share a quiet moment of mourning over Wesley (who was the W&H employee Giles was referring to, by the way). Sad. And Graham returns with a generous offer, but is mostly just cool. Anyone who's read my profile might know that I'm a Vi/Graham shipper (yes I KNOW it's random), so I couldn't resist that last bit with Vi headed over to give him some punch.


	4. 9x04: The Dear and Wished For Years

Episode 4: The Dear and Wished-For Years

Guest Starring: Sean Maher (Simon Tam from _Firefly_) as Tobias MacGowan

†

Friday, May 28, 2004

Cole eyed his companion thoughtfully as he idly rotated the stake in his hands. Tobias MacGowan was one in a handful of Watchers-in-training who had already taken up residence at the Hyperion along with the main party from Cleveland (which did not include Faith and Wood, who had returned to Europe for their honeymoon and would there remain to resume their search) and a few of the younger Slayers who hadn't wanted to remain in Ohio but didn't feel ready to carry out their callings their own yet.

Since Cole intended to become Alex's Watcher and was determined not to exploit his existing relationships with Oz and the other Scoobies to shortcut his way through the training, he had ultimately been partnered with Tobias for field combat practice. If this was to be part of his life, he had to prove he was capable of holding his own in a fight without Alex's assistance, and, according to Giles, the experience would also help him relate to her more about what she had to do.

"So…have you done this before?" asked Tobias. He was a few years older, slightly shorter, and a good deal stiffer in manner than Cole, though the lattermost trait seemed to be true of most aspiring Watchers.

"Not exactly. I've killed a few vamps, but I had the help of a Slayer and a werewolf." Cole looked around the dark graveyard with mild apprehension. "I've sparred against Alex a lot since then, though," he added, trying to make himself feel more prepared, but it didn't really work. Tobias seemed to notice this.

"And how did that work out?" he asked derisively.

"She wiped the floor with me every single time."

"Oh. That's encouraging."

Cole only shrugged in response and continued to peer through the darkness. He didn't peer closely enough, though, for he was suddenly being tackled to the ground by a vampire that had appeared out of nowhere, and he let out a yell that was cut short when the breath was knocked out of him by the impact. Tobias hurried towards the wrestling pair, but his hands shook so hard that his stake fell to the grass at his feet, and he hurriedly dropped to all fours to retrieve it.

After a moment of struggling, during which the vampire's fangs got dangerously close to his throat, Cole finally managed to get room to coil his legs up to his chest, then kicked out as hard as he could, catching his attacker in the stomach and vaulting him off. He was still rather winded and his limbs didn't want to coordinate well enough to let him stand up, but the vampire was going for Tobias instead. This time, Tobias was ready for him, and the heel of his hand connected solidly with the vampire's nose, which broke. Blood dripped from both nostrils and the vampire howled in agony, his hands flying up to his face.

Already feeling triumphant, Tobias lunged forward with the stake. The wooden tip had less than an inch to go before it would penetrate the wall of cold, hard chest, when the recovering vampire caught it and jerked it roughly away, causing splinters to be embedded deeply into Tobias's hands as the stake was torn from his grasp. The vampire then backhanded him hard across the face.

"I think this is yours," he snarled through his fangs, and then the only thing Tobias was aware of was the blinding, searing pain just below his ribcage. His knees met the soft grass and his hands scrabbled helplessly at the few inches of wood protruding from his stomach.

But the murderous grin abruptly slid from the vampire's face. He bellowed in agony, his spine arching backward, and then all that was left was dust. Cole's hand snatched through the still airborne cloud of ashes to grab a rune-engraved necklace before it could fall with the remnants of its wearer. He hadn't seen the extent of Tobias's injuries, so there wasn't anything to mar his satisfaction at completing this hurdle of his training. He whirled the necklace around his finger until the gold chain was a blur in the air, but then the graveyard evaporated around him, as did the necklace. He blinked; the light of the Hyperion lobby at one in the afternoon was almost painful after the pressing darkness.

"How was that?" he asked. On the floor next to him, Tobias let out a groan before getting to his feet.

"You did very well, Mr. Knight," said Giles with a small nod. "You killed the vampire and retrieved the artifact while avoiding serious injury." Cole punched the air in victory, which made Giles give him a stern look. "Not that there isn't room for improvement," he added. "Particularly in being aware of danger posed to your comrades."

"Yeah, but from now on, my comrade is a Slayer, and, since I'm married to her, I've pretty much already got full awareness points."

Alex, who was sitting on the steps in front of the door and twirling her drumsticks between her fingers, grinned at him. "Very true," she said, smiling sweetly at Giles, who couldn't deny that they had a point, though he wished they would take things a bit more seriously. Ultimately, his response was to give them both a look that plainly wished them elsewhere, which did nothing whatsoever to dampen their spirits.

"Good work, Watcher-man," said Alex, jumping to her feet. She and Cole high-fived, then left the hotel hand in hand.

More than a little exasperated, Giles turned his attention to Tobias, who looked rather sour as he rubbed his hand gingerly over his stomach where the wound had been. "Mr. MacGowan," said Giles, "I'm afraid you'll have to do this test again later, and I really would prefer that you spend some time sparring against one of the girls first."

"That won't be necessary, sir," he objected smoothly. "You saw me. I almost had him. I'm ready to be assigned to a Slayer."

"As you undoubtedly noticed, there is a great deal of difference between 'almost' killing a vampire and actually succeeding. If this had been real, the difference would have been your life. This training is not to be undertaken lightly."

This remark stung; Tobias might not have succeeded, but he hadn't been the one making light of it, either. "Well, then I'm ready to try again now. I just wasn't focused enough."

"Now…really doesn't work." Tobias turned around, and Giles followed his gaze to Willow, who sat cross-legged in a circle of white candles, a smoking bowl of herbs before her. She was panting heavily and holding a shaking hand to her upper lip, which was streaked with blood from her nose. "This…might just seem…like virtual reality or something to you, but...I'm the one…who has to create it."

†

In the hallway overlooking the lobby stood Angel and Oz, both of whom had been watching in fascination as Willow's magical construct of a training exercise unfolded. From their perspective, it had looked almost like a giant snow globe, minus, obviously, the snow and quaint scenery. Not long into the exercise, Oz felt his pocket vibrate and reluctantly tore his attention from Willow and pulled out his phone. The call was from Tony, the band's agent. He flipped the phone open.

"Hey, Oz, man, got you another location."

"What're the specs?"

"Well, the guy's heard of the band, and he wanted to talk to you."

"That's…cool. Uh, now?"

"Yeah, I'll put him through."

"Mr. Osbourne!"

"Oz," he corrected him automatically.

"Oz, right. You're the guitarist for Illogical Stop Sign, right?" the man asked, and Oz noted the distinctive Brooklyn accent.

"Guilty."

"Great! Now, just outta curiosity, would that make you the werewolf or the demon?"

Oz blinked. He hadn't expected _that_. "Uh."

"Hey, don't worry about it," said the man quickly. "Demon-friendly club. About half of the regulars are demons, and most members of the other bands are, too."

"Uh-huh." It hadn't been long after Oz left Sunnydale before he discovered that not all demons were strictly evil. That seemed to be much more the specialty of towns with Hellmouths. Everywhere else, the moral alignment of the demon community tended to be much more varied, so the thought of playing a gig at a demon club in L.A. didn't ruffle him too much.

"And your drummer is a Slayer?"

"She is."

"She won't be the first I've met. Might make some of the guys twitchy, but it won't be a problem so long as she doesn't attack anyone on the premises."

"Uh-huh." Oz heard the click signifying the end of the call. His brow furrowed and he ran a hand through the short hairs of his recently grown goatee as he gave his phone a rather bemused look. What _did_ ruffle him was that this guy had known so much about himself and his fellow musicians, since those details definitely weren't included in the mini-bios on their CD cases.

"Who was that?" asked Angel.

"Band agent. Followed by the owner of a demon club." He dropped the phone back into his pocket.

Angel nodded, and there was silence for a moment. "Do you know how Willow's doing that?" he asked as they watched Cole and Tobias square off against the vampire within the environment she had created.

"Yeah, she told me how it works. She's been wanting to try it for a while. Took her thirty minutes to visualize it all, and then some Latin and herbs and a whole lot of power to project it into reality. Well, temporary reality."

"Impressive trick."

Oz frowned, his eyes locked on Willow. "Maybe too impressive," he said, then made for the stairs. A second later, the projection had vanished like a popped soap bubble. Oz reached Willow just as she looked at the red stains her nosebleed had left on her trembling hand, and she readily collapsed against him when he pulled her into his arms.

Angel's gaze rested unseeingly upon Willow and Oz until he was distracted by the arrival of Renée, who, as he had come to expect over the past few weeks, wielded a sketchbook.

"Er, have you got a moment?" she asked timidly. It took him a couple of seconds to pull his gaze away from the activity in the lobby to look at her instead.

"Sure," he said. "What did you need?"

She relaxed visibly. "I've been trying to draw this fight scene, but the proportions feel…wonky. And I'm not sure it communicates movement very well."

Angel studied the sketches critically. His own artistic experience, extensive though it was, had largely involved depicting subjects en repose, and his exposure to the comic book medium wasn't much broader than what Xander and Renée had already finished of theirs. Still, he remained the only artistically inclined person who'd had a hand in the events being depicted, so Renée considered his input to be invaluable.

"I think if you loosen up the postures a little, it'll make the action more fluid," he said eventually, "and the proportions aren't bad, just watch the foreshortening. You'll get a lot more depth if you do it right."

"Oh, right. Thanks!" She smiled appreciatively at Angel and walked away again, and he let out a longsuffering groan. He didn't have anything against Renée—or anyone else at the Hyperion, for that matter—, but he was having trouble adjusting to being surrounded by so many people. It had been different at Wolfram and Hart. He had actually been in charge of the employees there, and that authority—combined with his ability to terrify them by simple virtue of being a vampire—had gone a long way towards preserving some measure of peaceful solitude. Here, and as a human, it was an entirely different story. Everywhere he turned, someone seemed to want his advice on something, and he had by default become the interpreter for a couple of the foreign Slayers. But not even they were as persistent as the Watchers-in-training, who had somehow found out about some of his history and had become obnoxiously keen to hear the rest of it directly from him.

All of this unwanted attention wouldn't bother him so much if it didn't get in the way of spending time with Buffy. After two months spent almost exclusively in her company, or occasionally solving cases with her and Gunn in the style of the original Angel Investigations, the new situation was rather trying on his patience.

To complicate things still further, her attention was in yet higher demand than his, so even when he managed to get a few minutes' peace, she would be occupied. With every additional Watcher-in-training in the hotel, the time they could spend together was further reduced, until they became little more than ships that pass in the night. That was how it had been for the past week, and it was driving him insane. There wasn't even the common harbor of sharing a suite at the hotel. It had seemed backwards to do so when, in spite of the many prolonged make-out sessions they had enjoyed, they had yet to become fully intimate once more.

The distance that had been imposed on them was like an unwanted reminder of how they had spent the last five years, but it was this that ultimately convinced Angel once and for all that it was time to ensure that he would never be parted from her again. Almost in reflexive response to this train of thought, the old objections began buzzing around his mind, but he resolutely squashed them. They didn't apply anymore. With that, he pulled himself firmly out of his brooding and back into the present. He knew that Buffy was at the theater with Dawn, celebrating the end of the latter's school year. That left him a little over an hour and a half, which really wasn't much time, even if he wasn't starting completely from scratch. The sense of urgency turned out to be a great blessing, for, heading in Giles's direction, he barely felt nervous at all.

†

"That movie shouldn't even have the same title!" Dawn exploded angrily. Buffy winced; her sister's outburst over what she had deemed an unforgivably wide discrepancy between the book and film was drawing the stares of several others exiting the theater.

"I didn't think it was that bad," said Buffy. "The whole modernized Medieval thing and the really bad out-of-nowhere dance routine lost it some points, but—"

"The romance was completely wrong! They were supposed to like each other from the start, not have some stupid love/hate thing, and he definitely didn't have a screaming fangirl mob after him in the book. And there was no evil uncle with an evil talking snake oppressing elves and plotting to steal the throne! The movie was like some—some horribly mutated fusion of the real story and _The Lion King_ that derailed on its way to copying the humor of _Shrek_." She fumed silently for a few seconds, but from the way she was still twitching, Buffy guessed that hadn't finished. She guessed right. "And the uncle was going to kill Char with a poisoned _crown_?" she finally burst out. "Really? I can't _believe_ they got Cary Elwes to play that part."

"You're right," said Buffy with a determinedly straight face. "It's completely unacceptable. Feel better?"

"No," said Dawn huffily, crossing her arms. "I demand a remake."

"Good luck with that. Will it help if we watch _Ever After_ later?"

"Maybe."

"Oh hey, there's Xander." They jogged over to where Xander had pulled up in his new car. In a fortunate turn of events that still made his head spin, Xander had acquired the small, efficient silver vehicle at the same time that he was made a construction foreman for Nabbit Industries, which was about to add another office building. One day, Xander had simply been tackling the renovation of the parts of the Hyperion that had required more than a dust-buster and new light bulbs to become serviceable, and the next, he'd been given a job. He wasn't sure whether this was more because of his skills and past work in construction and design or because the man who had provided the crew and funding to repair the hotel believed him to be Angel's friend. Out of an interest in not wanting to owe Angel anything ever, he convinced himself that it was the former.

"How was the meeting?" Dawn asked as she and Buffy climbed into the car.

"Strangely un-boring," he said. "Might have had something to do with the planning session turning into swapping stories about past D&D adventures after about ten minutes."

"That sounds productive," Buffy snorted.

"You'd be surprised."

Xander then made the mistake of asking how they'd liked the movie, and spent the rest of the drive back to the hotel listening to Dawn rant about it. Buffy didn't pay much more attention to this than she had the first time around. She was too busy trying to think of ways to dodge the Watchers-in-training, who never tired of badgering her about her slaying career, and the younger Slayers, who still viewed sparring against her as the ultimate test of their abilities. They were driving her so crazy that she wondered how she'd been able to put up with it so easily the previous year.

†

"Anything else end-of-school-y you want to do?" Buffy asked as they walked through the arched gates leading to the hotel.

"Not really," said Dawn, shrugging. "I'd kinda rather do some training."

"Same here," said Xander.

"Perfect!" came Angel's voice unexpectedly from nearby in the courtyard. Buffy felt an automatic surge of warmth at the sight of him. "Think you guys can distract them long enough for us to escape?" Xander and Dawn both looked at him (Dawn with curiosity and Xander with wariness), but his expression revealed nothing.

"What do you need a distraction for?" asked Xander.

"Heh, it doesn't matter; we'll do our best," said Dawn pointedly. "Bye!" She glanced at Buffy, who gave her a grateful smile, then grabbed Xander by the arm and pulled him towards the glass doors. He made a disgruntled noise of protest, but soon disappeared inside the building after her anyway.

"We're such pushovers," said Buffy disparagingly, once the door had closed behind them. "You'd think that after everything I've been through, I wouldn't have to hide behind my best friend and baby sister to get away from a couple dozen newbies. How'd you get away from the adoring masses?"

"I haven't lost _all_ of my stealth," said Angel in a falsely offended voice. "That was just as much from centuries of practice as from being a vampire, you know."

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

"And Giles helped," he added reluctantly.

"That's…really nice of him," she said, a little bemused. Giles had never been as vocal as Xander against her relationship with Angel, but he hadn't seemed entirely supportive of it, either.

"He probably just thought we needed a break," said Angel, shrugging. Buffy knew by his smoothly evasive tone that whatever else there was to it, she wasn't going to get it out of him, so she simply slipped her hand into his and changed the subject.

"So, we've got the rest of the day to ourselves?" she asked.

"That's the idea," he said, smiling.

"Anything specific in mind?"

"Nothing too special," he said, far too casually not to be hiding something, and her curiosity was further piqued. Something told her it would be worth it to let this be a surprise, however, so she let him lead her to the GTX and open the passenger door for her without pressing for details. But she forgot all about her attempts to guess what he was up to by sneaking sideways glances at his face when he pulled over at a very familiar building ten minutes later.

"Oh, my God. Hemery," she gasped, staring at the high-pillared front of her old school. Angel watched her practically float out of the car, and gladly followed her down the trail of memories the place had paved. It was where everything had changed, where destiny had simultaneously claimed them both. He walked with her slowly towards the front steps. Buffy was looking everywhere, mentally cataloguing all of the ways in which the place had changed, but Angel saw only her.

"Think they're still bitter about the burning down the gym issue?" she asked jokingly, raising her voice to be heard over the final bell. "Then again, that's pretty much just a wrist-slapping misdemeanor next to blowing up a whole school or making a town match the 'after' shot of Paris in _Armageddon_." She turned to grin at Angel, and her heart rate seemed to double in an instant, while her brain jammed and her eyes went round as coins.

†

"One more week," an exhausted junior informed her friends.

"Summer plans, anyone?" asked a boy with tousled sandy hair as he led the way out of the building amid the flood of their fellow students.

"Months of happy not school," said the boy next to him. "I don't care what else happens as long as Mom doesn't ground me from the X-Box."

"Loser," said a second girl teasingly. "Ow!" The first girl had jabbed her hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Courtney! What was that for?"

"Look over there!" she said, her voice shrill and excited. The other three followed her gaze to the petite blonde woman standing about twenty yards away from them with her hands over her mouth and the large man with spiky brown hair who was down on one knee in front of her. They weren't the only students who had noticed, either, and everyone who had seen them was in suspended animation as they waited for the outcome.

"Ten bucks that she says no," said the sandy-haired boy.

"Ryan!" said Courtney, scandalized.

"You're on," said the other boy.

†

Angel wasn't entirely sure this was going well. No matter how much they'd talked of sharing a future since his Shanshu, shock and tears were not reactions that instilled great confidence, and there was a great deal of both on the portion of Buffy's face not hidden behind her hands. The diamond within the heart of the gold Claddagh engagement ring he still held out sparkled dazzlingly in the afternoon sunlight, demanding a more concrete reaction.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she remained frozen in her tear-streaked shock.

Very slowly, her hands came down. "I j-just never realized that things c-could be this good!" she said, hiccupping slightly.

"_You_ didn't?" he asked in amused incredulity, so relieved that her words hadn't included a refusal that he felt lightheaded.

"Well, I was g-going to die young and you were going to l-live forever. This has all been like a dream, but now—," she broke off, unable to continue. She was flashing back to the first time her life changed on these steps. How much had happened in the eight years since! And here she was again for the cycle to begin anew.

"But now…what?" he prompted gently after a few seconds.

"Now it's _real_," she finished, her face breaking into a watery smile. His heart leapt, but he still needed to hear it.

"Then…."

"Yes! Of course, yes!" she said, laughing. She'd already been skipping dizzyingly ahead to the wedding and honeymoon and kids and a mini-van and forever in her head, and he was worried she'd say no? But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, he rose back to his feet and met her in an earth-shattering kiss.

They were only dimly aware of the raucous explosion of cheers, laughter, whistles, and clapping the scene had earned from the crowd of students exiting the school. In the background, Ryan wordlessly passed a ten to his very smug friend.

†

Tobias was very tempted to use the old Watcher diary as a pillow, but forced his eyes to remain open. He was sore all over from sparring with Laurel in the afternoon, but he wasn't sure his pride would recover as quickly as his body. Even Buffy's sister and her friend with the eye-patch had done better than him! He had made a complete fool of himself, and he'd thought getting mortally wounded in the fake graveyard scenario would be the worst thing to happen in one day! He didn't need the third strike of falling asleep at his studies. But it was just so infuriating! Cole and half of the other Watchers-in-training were out patrolling with Slayers even now, while he was stuck in the hotel, his vision growing blurrier and blurrier with every page of tiny, handwritten Slayer history. But he didn't care what it took. The old Watchers' Council hadn't accepted him into their academy, but they were gone. This was his second chance, and he _would_ become a Watcher.

At about half past midnight, the front doors opened and in came Buffy and Angel. Tobias didn't think he'd seen either of them in better spirits; each sported a brilliant smile, Buffy's arm was looped snugly through Angel's, and they were walking in such close proximity to each other that their clothes may as well have been sewn together from shoulder to ankle. This obvious intimacy surprised Tobias, who couldn't remember seeing them together at all in the week and a half he'd been there.

"Welcome back," said Giles, looking over at them. Buffy, eyes sparkling with emotion, broke away from Angel and ran to Giles to give him a very tight hug.

"Thank you," she said.

Giles returned the hug with a smile.

"You're quite welcome," he said, a little hoarsely.

Buffy pulled back and kissed him on the cheek, then returned to where Angel stood, seized his hand, and practically dragged him up the stairs.

Behind Giles, Christian Lawrence, a prospective Watcher who'd only been at the hotel for three days, stood up, clearly intending to pursue the couple. "Oh, for God's sake!" said Giles impatiently, without turning around. "Will you stay where you are and leave them be?"

Christian immediately sat back down, looking sheepish.

"Like bloody journalists," muttered Giles.

†

The following morning dawned beautifully in streaks of pink and gold across the fluffy-clouded sky. Buffy slowly awoke as muted light filtered through the curtains and into the room. Immeasurable contentment stole through her at waking up within the warmth of her _fiancé's_ embrace. Angel must have woken up as well, for he began to breathe words she couldn't understand into her ear. She smiled, but didn't open her eyes.

"Angel, you remember that I don't speak Irish, right?" she said in a tired giggle.

"Hmm. Angel. Don't think I've ever been called that. I like it. I'm sure my father would think it a sacrilege."

Buffy's eyes shot open. Angel had spoken in a thick brogue that she had never heard him use before, and that plus the implication behind his words snapped her abruptly into full consciousness. She sat bolt upright and hastened to put some distance between them. In doing so, she failed to take into account the very limited space between herself and the edge of the bed, and with a startled shriek, she toppled backwards over the side and landed on the floor in a heap. Angel's hearty laughter filled the room.

_No!_ she thought fiercely. _He's not Angel. Why isn't he Angel? He's human! Nothing's supposed to go wrong!_ She thought she was going to be sick, and her whole chest felt like it might cave in from anguish any second. She seized the nearest article of clothing to her (which happened to be the shirt she'd removed from Angel as soon as they made it to his room) and hastily donned it. Having finished doing up the buttons despite her shaking fingers, she got back to her feet. The light from the window, while it had woken them up, was not yet sufficient to properly brighten the room, but she had no trouble seeing well enough to fix her shocked glare on his face.

"What's going on?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice even. "Who are you?"

"An' I thought I was the one who didn't trouble to learn names," he said, still chortling as he began to stretch like some great cat. "Could've been I didn't get around to introducin' meself to ye…in words, that is. Truth be told, I _was_ shlossed out o' me skull last night." He paused in his stretching and considered that for a moment. "Don't seem to be feelin' much in the way of usual aftereffects of the drink, though."

"Who are you?" she repeated, her emotions still in turmoil.

"Liam Gallagher. Though I'm not certain Father'll let me keep the family name after draggin' it through the dirt fer so long." He clearly felt satisfaction in this accomplishment, but Buffy paid the detail little attention. She felt marginally less panicked upon discovering that he _was_ still Angel, just apparently in the middle of a serious lapse of memory.

But even if he was the same person, gone was her compassionate, loving champion who had earned his second chance at human life and wanted to spend it with her. Here instead was the man he had been the first time he'd had a pulse. The man who would see her—and any other woman—as little more than an object of pleasure. The rebellious scoundrel who had been fully and arrogantly aware of his own devastating attractiveness, which he had used to aid him in living for debauchery—and he had gotten himself killed because of it. But as to the cause of his memory loss, she felt there could be little dispute, and her insides writhed with guilt.

As far as she could tell, the transformation was because of her.

Again.

†

Buffy was seconds away from breaking down completely and she knew it. Everything that had happened between them in the last twenty-four hours seemed to mock her with the happy memories, memories he no longer shared with her, and the diamond he had put on her finger winked tauntingly in the weak light. But she couldn't break down in front of him. Not when he didn't know her. Not when he wouldn't automatically pull her into his arms to comfort her.

"Since ye're so adamant about introductions, do I get to learn yer name in return?" he asked.

Buffy jumped, abruptly resurfacing into reality. In some distant part of her mind, she registered that he'd never asked her that before. He'd known who she was before she met him. She hardened her face into a mask of inscrutability, then walked over and flipped the light switch. Angel's mouth fell open and he stared at the light. Satisfied by his expression that he'd be preoccupied with the marvels of modern technology for a while, she then moved to the dresser and pulled out a change of clothes for him, which she then threw at him.

"I'm Buffy. Put those on and wait here," she said in a flat, emotionless voice. Before he could do more than turn his astonished gaze in her direction, she left the room and practically ran the stretch of hallway back to her own. Once safely inside, she closed the door behind her, slid down its surface, and wept bitterly.

†

It took him a while, as he had never before seen garments of the kind Buffy had given him and he was very distracted by a setting so wholly incongruous with the one he last remembered, but Angel—or, perhaps more accurately, _Liam_—did eventually manage to dress himself. Though the outfit was by no means uncomfortable, he felt very odd to not be wearing normal breeches and stockings. When he reached up to gather his hair and put it in the usual ponytail, his fingers met with short strands. He hastily sought a mirror in hopes of discovering what had become of the bottom eight inches of his hair, but the mirror, when he found it, merely offered the reflection of sleep-tousled and inexplicably short hair, the faint shadows of incoming stubble on the lower half of his face, and those odd clothes, but nothing else was different about his appearance.

Still frowning at his reflection, he thought back to the night before. He and Seamus had been thrown out of the tavern for starting a brawl—and that he was now completely free of bruises was yet another mystery to add to the steadily growing pile—and then he'd come across a lady of obvious stature. Was this because of her? In spite of how drunk he'd been when he met her, he could see her clearly enough in his mind. He had spoken to her, and she'd seemed receptive, if mysterious. But after that…nothing. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't the woman he'd just woken up with. He let out a noise of frustration. None of it connected!

Liam looked around the room again and noticed an odd box with a glass front and metal sticks coming out of the top. Curious, he walked over and crouched down in front of it. There was a row of round lumps protruding at the bottom, and he gave the first one a tentative prod. The glass suddenly lit up, and he scrambled back in surprise. The thing was making noise and pictures! There were _people_ in there! What the hell was going on? Ignoring Buffy's instructions to wait in the room for her, he departed, wanting to get away from the strange talking box and strongly hoping to find some answers.

†

Down in the vast kitchen on the first floor, Laurel finished the last few bites of her cereal and went to deposit her bowl in the sink, wishing that she hadn't woken up so early. As a Slayer, she already kept very late hours and usually preferred to rise at the crack of midday, but this morning, for whatever reason, she'd been awake at six hadn't been able to get back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. Now that her stomach had stopped growling, though, she thought she might as well make another attempt—or, if that didn't work, she could always finish reading _Sabriel_ for the fifth time instead. Rubbing her eyes and then pushing her glasses farther up on her nose, she made her way out of the kitchen and into the lobby, where she found Willow sitting in her pajamas with her hair up in a haphazard bun, her laptop open in front of her, a half-eaten bagel in her hand, and an annoyed expression on her face.

"Morning," said Willow.

"Morning. Couldn't sleep either?" asked Laurel.

"Oh, no, it's just, I went to bed around noon yesterday because that fun projection spell I did kinda drained me," she said, shrugging.

"Back up to full mana now, though?" Willow looked confused, and Laurel gave a nervous chuckle. "Never mind. Gamer-speak. I'm just gonna go try and sleep some more now."

"Okay," said Willow, returning her attention to her laptop.

Trying to convince her body that she was tired, Laurel headed up to the second floor. Rounding the corner, she nearly ran into Angel. Rather than moving past her, however, he stopped and stared at her in a way that sent heat creeping up her cheeks.

"Uh. Hi?" she said uncertainly. She was very fond of her personal space, and from what she had surmised about Angel so far, he shared her opinion on the subject. She was incredibly bemused, therefore, that he remained standing less than a yard from her and, even more alarmingly, continued to watch her intently.

"Ye know, I think I could get used to seein' women in breeches," he said, and much to her consternation, proceeded to unashamedly rake his gaze up and down the length of her figure in clear appreciation. Laurel's legs suddenly felt unequal to the task of supporting her weight.

_God, he's gorgeous_, she thought. _But he's dating Buffy! Completely off-limits. But he seems to think otherwise… No! He's never even looked at me before…even if he's making up for that right now—shut up! Okay, there's no way this isn't a crazy dream. He's dating Buffy! Did he always have an Irish accent? So…pretty—stop that! Is he getting closer? I'm being a complete swooning idiot. Buffy's gonna kill me. Twice._

"The name's Liam," he said, which only added to Laurel's confusion, as did his lightly suggestive tone. "An' might I ask who you are, miss?" When he took yet another step closer, it became too much by several degrees. Laurel let out a high-pitched squeak, ducked under his arm, and bolted past him down the hall.

This was not a reaction to which Liam was accustomed. He knew the girl could not have been any older than eighteen, and many her age were very silly and tiresome creatures, but they did not run away from him. If he failed to capture their interests (which was a rare occurrence), he would get a curtsey and a cold farewell. Perhaps she was mad. That possibility suited his ego well, so he stuck with it and continued to walk in the direction from which she'd come. Soon, the corridor gave way to a grand staircase overlooking a large, open room.

†

Buffy took one last look in the mirror to make sure she had composed herself. She was satisfied with what she saw. The shower, hurried as it was, had helped a little, and she'd been taking deep, soothing breaths throughout the whole time she spent drying off, fixing her hair, and getting dressed. But there was no way he was going to stay in that room forever, so this was as collected as she had time to get.

When she reached his room, she found the door open and groaned. "Ang—Liam?" she called loudly. After receiving no reply, she hurried down the hall, adding anxiety to her growing mixture of unpleasant emotions. When she got closer to where the hall opened into the lobby, she could hear voices. Recognizing one as Angel's and the other as Willow's, even if she wasn't close enough to make out the words, she relaxed a little. This didn't last long, for Willow's voice suddenly rose in obvious alarm, and then there was a loud _thump_. Buffy broke into a run and almost fell down the stairs in her haste to reach the bottom. There, she found a very traumatized-looking Willow, who was holding her laptop closed against her chest, and a very unconscious Angel, who was lying facedown on the floor.

"Angel!" she cried in alarm. She ran to him and rolled him onto his back. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy!" said Willow, every muscle in her body so tightly corded with awkward tension that her laptop was in some danger of being damaged. "I just—I didn't know what to do! He came down here and I said hi, and then out of nowhere he started hitting on me and it was really weird and awkward and in an Irish accent and hello, very spoken for here, so I sort of panicked and…knocked him out. It was an accident, I swear!"

"Wil, calm down. This is actually good. Now I don't have to worry about making him stay put until we can figure out how to get his memory back."

"Angel lost his memory?" asked Willow, deeply confused. She put her laptop on the coffee table and crouched down next to Buffy. "Are you sure he's not just possessed? Uh, again? Because, I mean, we all lost our memory that one time, but we didn't have different accents, and the guys definitely weren't acting like God's gift to women." Buffy couldn't help snorting at this, and Willow looked contrite. "I'm babbling. Not helpful."

"No, it's okay. Willow-babbles are more therapeutic than everything else I've tried this morning combined. But no, he's not possessed. He just doesn't remember anything after the first time he was human."

"What, you mean like in the eighteenth century?" Willow asked, looking down at Angel.

"Yep. So, like I said, probably best he stays unconscious. But, uh, out here might be a bad idea. Help me move him to his room?" Willow nodded, and together they managed to get him to the elevator without too much difficulty.

"This doesn't make sense," said Willow, craning her neck to see Buffy around Angel's lolling head. "He was fine when I saw him yesterday. How did this…," she trailed off, noticing that Buffy's expression had become very grim. By that point, they had reached his room, and Willow saw the trail of discarded clothing and the thoroughly haphazard state of the bedclothes and put two and two together. They left Angel in the room and closed the door. "Oh, Buffy," said Willow once they were in the hall. "What happened?"

Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around herself. It was weird; Angel was the one she'd gotten used to telling everything again. She couldn't put into words how grateful she was to have Willow now, when Angel couldn't fill that role. "Ever since I came to L.A.," she began, "we were hardly ever out of each other's sight. Most of that time we spent talking—about pretty much anything you could think of. There was no tension, no pressure. It was perfect. Then all of a sudden everyone else lives in the hotel too and we were both still here, but everything was keeping us apart." Her gaze went slightly unfocused and her expression softened. "Yesterday was the first chance we had to spend more than just fifteen minutes together, and we didn't waste it. He had it all planned out." She laughed. "He even asked Giles first! And then he drove us to Hemery and proposed, and—"

Willow cut her off with a squeal of delight, and before Buffy could prepare for it, she was being tackle-hugged. The force of it sent them crashing into the wall, but it was another moment before Willow pulled away. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the current trouble, for she was glowing with gleeful excitement.

"Why didn't you say anything? How did he ask you? Did it make you feel all melty and floaty inside? There isn't even a good enough adjective for this. Oh! Now we could have a double wedding!"

She kept going until she was forced to draw breath, which provided the opening for Buffy to burst out laughing. "What? I couldn't help it," said Willow in mock indignation. "I mean, now I've finally got someone to giggle with over engagement perks. Faith wasn't very suited to that role." _I don't doubt that_, Buffy thought, and it showed in her expression. Willow remembered where the conversation had started and her face fell. "I did the babbling thing again. I'm sorry. Concerned sympathy face now. What happened after he proposed?"

"Well," said Buffy, "we spent the day at the Santa Monica Pier, came back, went to his room together, and…"

"Oh," said Willow, remembering the state of the room in question and giving Buffy an innuendo-laden grin. When Buffy only looked morosely back at her, concerned sympathy face returned. "_Oh_. You think that's why he lost his memory?"

"What else am I supposed to think, Wil?" she asked desperately. "I mean, the first time, he lost his soul. The second time, he hit the mystical undo button. Now this? It's like we're doomed to never have a good morning after!"

"Don't say that! How can you even be sure it was you? It could have just been a…a fluke!"

"Yeah, right, a fluke took away two and a half centuries of his life."

"Hey! Whatever it was, we're gonna fix it! We've got a whole bunch of people in this hotel already studying mystical stuff, contacts we can go to in the city, an online forum we can use to reach even more help, and more than a little bit of raw power between us, so the hopeless moping ends here!" She glared sternly at Buffy, who couldn't help feeling heartened. "Now come on, let's get the rest of the Scoobies and do this!"

†

As decreed by Willow, whose resolve face was firmly in place, by midmorning every resident of the Hyperion had joined the research party looking for a way to restore Angel's memory. The two exceptions to this were Renée and Xander, as the former had become so deeply wrapped up in working on the comic that she hadn't taken in a word when Willow explained the situation, and the latter had already left for the site of the new Nabbit Industries building before said explanation was offered.

Buffy was rather irritated by the way the Watchers-in-training all seemed to view the problem of Angel's memory loss as a mere test of their researching abilities, but nothing she had tried so far worked to instill in them a sense of urgency about the task. What was more, she was so nerve-wracked that she couldn't concentrate at all, and the frequent, almost childish bickering between Christian and Roger in particular over whose turn it was to look at any given source only made her want to throttle them, which didn't help.

Finally, after yet another argument broke out over lunch, she slammed her own book—which hadn't contained anything useful anyway—down on the table so loudly that a ringing silence fell, and she stomped off for her impulsive bi-hourly peek into Angel's room to check Liam for signs of returning consciousness. He was still out cold, however, and she heaved a sigh before returning to the now much more subdued group in the ballroom. She found Willow and Giles deep in discussion just inside the doors and decided to join them rather than immediately resume her supervision of the researchers. But it turned out to be the same conversation they'd already had, which meant that they had yet to leave square one.

"You're quite certain he remembers nothing beyond his original human life?" asked Giles.

"Yes!" said Buffy impatiently. "So how do we fix it?"

"We've been looking for the solution, but we don't exactly know what we're solving at the moment. It might be helpful to discover the cause first. A lot of things, mystical or otherwise, can affect memory. If we try to solve the wrong problem, we could easily do more harm than good."

"She thinks it's because they slept together," Willow provided helpfully. Buffy winced.

"It's so nice how I get to keep these things private," she remarked, shooting a warning glare at Tobias, who had been showing every sign of trying to eavesdrop. Willow gave her an apologetic look. Giles, on the other hand, frowned.

"I sincerely doubt that had anything to do with it," he said.

"But—," Buffy tried to protest, but Giles cut her off.

"I have not forgotten your and Angel's history, nor would I be likely to without my own memory being tampered with," he said, a hard note in his voice. "I read a great deal on memory loss after our, er, mishap of two years ago, and there was never even the slightest indication that physical intimacy could be a cause of it."

"There wasn't anything written about how he could lose his soul from it, either," Buffy argued. "He was already a freak among freaks as a vampire with a soul, but now that he's one who became human again?"

"If you want to play the devil's advocate, be my guest," said Giles, sounding weary, "but I still don't see how anything more than coincidence connects your and Angel's, erm, activities last night with his present condition."

While Buffy looked like she wanted to keep arguing, Willow stared at Giles, her eyes widening. "But what if this is because of the _actual_ devil's advocates?" They both looked at her, uncomprehending. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Wolfram and Hart? What's left of it, anyway. They're still out to get him, right? I mean—you've already had to fight some of the former clients, and stuff." At that point, Oz moved over to join them, looking even more pensive than usual.

"What good would it do to take his memory? That'll only make us more annoyed before we kick the crap out of them," said Buffy.

"Or it would distract us from finding out what they're really up to," said Oz. They all looked at him this time. "Well, I mean, as 'Liam'," he elaborated, putting finger quotes around the name, "he might be a complete womanizer, but he's harmless, right?" Buffy nodded, and Willow gasped.

"What if the real point was to turn him into Angelus again?" she said, horrified.

"If they were trying to do that, they could have just sent vamps to try to turn him," said Buffy, shaking her head.

"Not if they know how many Slayers live in the same building as him," Willow countered, "and now that he's human, they couldn't even get into his room without an invite. They'd have to do something sneakier."

"Something that didn't work, if Angelus was really what they were going for—assuming there's even a 'they' in the first place," said Buffy, who still wasn't convinced that she had been wrong in her original theory.

"No, they have a point," said Giles. "Perhaps whoever is behind this thought it would be easier to turn him this way. As he is, I imagine Angel would sooner die than allow himself to be turned into that monster again, but Liam wouldn't see it coming any more than he did the first time."

"And even if the point was only to turn him into Danny Boy, it's still a pretty good diversion," said Oz. "We've all been kinda looking the other way since it happened."

"But we've still got enough people to keep all bases covered," said Willow. "Once everyone's done with lunch, the Watchers-in-training can keep doing the research and the Slayers can go out and see if anything's a'brewing in the city."

"Okay," said Buffy, feeling marginally better now that there was more of a plan. Satisfied, Willow took Oz's hand and moved back to the cluster of tables where everyone continued to pore over books. She spotted a heavy tome bound in peeling black leather which was partially obscured by the one Tobias was reading, and stretched out her free hand to retrieve it.

"I've already read that one," he said, almost making her jump. "Didn't have anything useful." Willow shrugged, picked up a different book instead, and returned with Oz to their seats at the table they'd been sharing with Dawn, Alex, and Cole. Dawn looked over at her sister, who was still standing by Giles and looking just as gloomy as she'd been all morning. Noticing where Dawn's attention had wandered off to, Willow leaned over to her.

"Looks like you're up, Dawnie," she said. Dawn nodded, wordlessly abandoned the Latin translation she'd been working on for the past two hours, and got up.

"You're sure it wasn't because of me?" Buffy was asking Giles in an imploring voice when Dawn reached them. He put a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder.

"I'm sure," he said. "But that doesn't exactly make it a smaller problem." Buffy nodded, then stared off at nothing in particular, her expression hardening. Giles turned to exchange a glance with Dawn before leaving the two sisters alone.

"You okay?"

"How are we gonna get him back, Dawn?"

"Hey, compared to averting the apocalypse, this'll be a piece of cake." Buffy didn't seem to have heard her.

"Why can't things ever be simple?"

"Well, someone's sure in glass half empty mode." Dawn was trying to lighten the tone of the conversation, but Buffy's expression had hardened still further when she finally met her eyes.

"This isn't glass half empty mode," she said. "This is 'when I find out who the hell stole the first half of my drink, I'm going to disembowel them with a spork' mode." Having finally been convinced by the reasonable assertions of Giles, Willow, and Oz that something other than her had most likely been the cause of Angel's memory loss, all of the anger, frustration, and blame that Buffy had turned inward suddenly redirected towards the unknown culprit, and the inability to act on it immediately was making her feel incredibly violent.

Dawn raised her eyebrows and suppressed a smirk. "Buffy smash," she said, interpreting her sister's emotions correctly.

†

Up in his room, Liam finally began to stir. The first thing he became aware of was the splitting ache in his skull. The second was that he was still in this place where absolutely nothing made sense. "Ugh. Ne'er felt the drink this badly before," he grumbled. "Odd, considerin' there wasn't any drink." He tried to remember what had happened, but it was hard to concentrate around the throbbing pain in his head. He had an odd suspicion that the pretty red-haired woman might have had something to do with that, but couldn't see how that was possible. He hauled himself unsteadily to his feet and looked around, then let out an exasperated groan. He'd never even had a dream that made so little sense. But the headache notwithstanding, he was still determined to get to the bottom of this, so he strode out of the room purposefully. A minute later, he had reached the same grand room where he had found the redhead, though it was empty now.

†

Renée had the nagging suspicion that she would be coming across as obnoxious, but she left her room all the same, sketchbook in hand, intent on asking Angel for more artistic pointers. Pretty soon, she was going to have to talk to Xander about including the former vampire in the credits. As she walked down the hall, she vaguely remembered Willow explaining that something odd was going on, but it couldn't have been too huge, or she would have done a more effective job of prying Renée from her drawings.

She found Angel much more quickly than she'd expected to. He was wandering around the lobby, an expression of puzzled irritation on his face as he looked through painfully squinting eyes, one hand pressed to the side of his forehead. None of this registered to the currently very single-minded Renée, who wasted no time in walking right up to him.

"Er, Angel," she said, opening the sketchbook to the page she'd just finished and holding it out, "sorry to be a nuisance, but what do you think of this?"

She was the third one that morning to call him "Angel", and he was about to ask her about that, but the question died on his lips when he noticed what she was showing him. He was looking at a picture of himself—or, the version of himself he'd seen in the mirror that morning, complete with the bizarre clothes and ridiculously short hair. Also included in the drawing were Buffy, the redhead from earlier, and four others he didn't recognize.

"I took a break from drawing the story panels," Renée went on, oblivious to his stunned reaction. "Thought I'd do a nice group shot before I get going with the next scene."

At this point, Liam's confusion put him beyond speech, but he was at least pleased to note that his headache was ebbing. When he failed to offer so much as a monosyllabic response, Renée looked up at him, frowning. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, noticing his expression for the first time.

He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow in fascination, and his gaze briefly traced the line of the very apparent scar etched across her face. He was by no means the first person to have done this, but it still made her feel rather self-conscious.

"A Scotch Moor," he observed. "Now that's an interestin' combination."

Renée looked at him with a combination of disbelief and reproach. As a half-Indian, half-African girl who had been adopted in her infancy into a Glaswegian family of fair-skinned redheads, she had endured more than her share of racist comments over the course of her almost twenty years, but it hadn't bothered her since one of her brothers had pulverized a classmate for teasing her about it when she was six. Having spent the past few weeks getting artistic advice from Angel, however, and finding him to be taciturn but friendly in general, she was not prepared to hear it from him, and felt slightly hurt. But she was even less prepared for what came next.

"Not a combination I've tried before, anyway," he went on. Renée was already standing very close to him so he could see the sketchbook, but now he leaned even closer and slipped an arm around her waist. "But I'm not one fer passin' up new opportunities."

"What the—," began Renée, utterly mortified by the roguish and suggestive smirk now spreading across his face, not to mention the completely unwarranted physical contact. But she broke off, because another voice was saying the exact same words from the direction of the front doors.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

†

Since it was a Saturday and the office building was still in the early planning stages, there hadn't been enough to do at work to keep anyone past lunch, so Xander was back at the hotel only a few minutes past noon, with a vague idea of taking Renée out to lunch somewhere. These plans were banished, however, the second he crossed the threshold into the lobby and saw Angel all but feeling up _his_ girlfriend. It rubbed Xander the wrong way quite enough that Buffy was still nuts over Angel after all this time, but this had him flashing back to the compromising discovery of the hidden camera at the Magic Box, and he saw red.

At his very loud words, Renée and Liam spun around. Renée looked very glad for the interruption, though she was still very tense, while Liam withdrew the offending hand and sized Xander up, folding his arms across his chest. He didn't so much as flinch when Xander closed the distance between them, jaw clenched and eye wide and fierce.

"I take it you'll be stakin' a claim to this one, then. Or is she already yours?"

Xander's ears were ringing too loudly for him to hear properly. Of course, he was already determined to be offended by anything Angel said, so the words themselves made little difference. "What, so now that you can get some without turning into a psycho, you think you can just get it wherever you want?"

Liam, who didn't understand the context of the comment, took it as a slight against his prowess. "Oh, but I can, boy," he sneered scornfully. "Which is more'n you can boast, I'm sure."

Xander snapped. Seven years of simmering dislike were brought abruptly to a rapid boil, and he drew back his fist and punched Liam squarely in the face. Renée watched, hardly able to move for shock and horror, as Liam staggered back a few steps, a hand over his mouth. But when he faced them again, wiping blood from his lower lip, far from being angry and indignant, he was chuckling. This threw Xander off balance so much that he didn't duck in time to avoid the retaliatory blow, which hit him on the jaw with almost enough force to send him crashing to the floor. Liam's grin widened even further. His aim was much better than he expected—but then again, he rarely fought when he was sober. Apparently it made a difference.

* * *

I hope Willow's projection spell thing at the beginning didn't seem far-fetched. I couldn't resist the idea of making things seem all dire and then it all goes *poof*. Getting a stake shoved into his gut probably hurt whether or not it was real, so I feel kinda bad for doing that to Tobias anyway. And it looks like Giles is doomed to be surrounded by people who irritate him for the rest of his career as a Watcher. Heh. Oz's phone call. I love how monosyllabic he can be even when he has a lot on his mind. Dawn's reaction to that movie (which was _Ella Enchanted_, by the way) was exactly my reaction to it when I saw it, and I did watch _Ever After_ to make it better afterward. Xander working for David Nabbit. Sorry dude, but that _is_ because he thinks you're Angel's friend. And because you have an eye-patch. The proposal. That scene is almost entirely to blame for the posting delay. Getting the title characters of two of Joss Whedon's shows engaged is a very daunting task, even though I'm a rabid Buffy/Angel shipper. Since Sunnydale is no more, Hemery was pretty much the only significant setting in which this could occur, but I actually think I'd still choose it over anywhere in Sunnydale because of the past events tied to it. Then more of the obnoxious Watchers-to-be. Buffy was hug-attacking Giles because, at some point after the cutscene, Angel told her that Giles had given them his blessing. Aaand, morning after. Let's see how I can make this go horribly wrong in a new and exciting way! Even though he's pretty harmless, in some ways, Liam is worse than Angelus. Angelus fully appreciated how attached Angel was to Buffy, and everything he did was a direct challenge to it. Liam is just indifferent. Ouch. He's still fun to write, though. Am I mean for laughing when Buffy fell out of the bed? It seems like a cruel moment to laugh at her. But hey, Liam laughed at her too. Okay, yeah, it's mean. Also, if you noticed any slight change in my writing style, I think it's got something to do with rereading _Pride and Prejudice_. I seem to be a chameleon of writing styles. I wonder what would happen if I read _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ again. Okay, I really want to try that now. I'll wait until I get to a funnier episode, though. I think the easiest thing to write of the whole episode was Willow's reactions to everything at the end. Willow's awesome. And she's got her resolve face on, so we know she means business in the next episode. By the way, I _love_ not being limited by David Boreanaz's difficulty with Irish accents. Bwaha. Also, the title of the episode was taken from the first sonnet in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's _Sonnets from the Portuguese_, with which I've recently become slightly obsessed_._


	5. 9x05: The Shadow of His Former Self

Episode 5: The Shadow of His Former Self

Guest starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

Sean Maher (Simon from _Firefly_ and _Serenity_) as Tobias MacGowan

and

Jewel Staite (Kaylee, also from _Firefly_ and _Serenity_) as Tahn

†

"Alright, does everyone know where they're going?" asked Giles. The Slayers and some of the new Watchers, who had been grouped into threes and fours, nodded, the leaders of each group holding up their lists of places to check, most of which were connected to former clients of either Angel Investigations or Wolfram and Hart.

"Good," said Buffy. "Just remember, guys: you're not going out there to pick fights; you're going to see if something's brewing and to find out if anyone knows about Angel's memory loss. If you treat this like a game or a competition, we're going to have a problem." The last words were directed at the huddle of Watchers-in-training responsible for most of the disruptive and pointless arguments throughout the morning, and they had the decency to look abashed.

"Hey, I might have another lead," said Oz as everyone else filed out into the hall that led to the exit. Dawn came over as well, but Willow was too preoccupied with rearranging the books they still had to go through to follow her.

"Really?" asked Buffy.

"Yeah. The Lair. Demon bar/club. I talked to the owner yesterday. He wants us to play there," he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of Alex and Cole, who were leaving with Laurel and Roger to go scout out the Lone Bar.

"So you can definitely play it cool if you go check it out," said Buffy.

"That's not all. The guy already knew the demographics of the band." Dawn gave a poorly stifled snort, and the other three looked at her.

"You mean the demon-ographics?" she asked, now utterly failing to control her laughter. Giles's expression was one of grudging amusement, but Buffy (who had lost her sense of humor right around the time Angel lost his memory) made an impatient noise in the back of her throat, and Dawn sobered slightly.

"Well, yeah," said Oz, raising his eyebrows at Dawn. "He knew a lot of personal information for someone who hasn't met us."

"And you think he might know more than that," Giles guessed.

"That's what I plan to find out."

"Great. Thanks," said Buffy sincerely before turning to Giles. "In the meantime, I think I'm gonna go talk to Gunn. He might have some more potential suspects for us."

"Are you sure you don't want someone else to—," Giles began, but she cut him off, shaking her head.

"You know I'm still not Research Girl, Giles. And I'll only end up punching a hole through the wall if I stay here any longer."

"Of course. I'll, erm, hold down the fort, then, shall I?"

Buffy nodded, forcing a weak smile of appreciation, then left the ballroom, Oz at her shoulder.

As they approached the lobby, Oz was the first one to hear it. He frowned and walked faster, but didn't comment when the unmistakable sounds of fists on flesh reached his sensitive ears. When Buffy could hear it too, she broke into a run, thinking in panic that they'd already missed their window of opportunity and that whoever had wanted a diversion had succeeded, and now they were attacking just when most of their fighters had left the hotel.

These frantic musings were dispelled, to be replaced with shock, when she burst into the lobby to see that the disturbance was only Liam and Xander in the middle of a fistfight, with Renée standing paralyzed and horrified a few feet away. Hesitating for only a fraction of a second to process all of this, Buffy ran up to the struggling pair just as Liam managed to get Xander in a headlock, and jerked them roughly apart, sending both crashing ungracefully to the floor.

"There had better be one hell of a good explanation for this," she said through clenched teeth.

"There is!" said a completely irate Xander, who was being helped up by Renée. "I got back here to see that _cretin_ putting the moves—and his _hands_—on _my _girlfriend." He had attempted to maintain a possessive grip on Renée's hand, but she withdrew and stepped out of reach, looking upset.

"Póg mo thóin," said Liam disdainfully as he got back to his feet.

Buffy rounded on him. "Since I _clearly_ can't let you out of my sight for even five minutes, you get to come with me," she said, her voice so full of menace that Liam's bravado evaporated on the spot. In spite of the fact that she was both petite and a woman, it did not occur to him to dismiss the threat she posed. What was more, he had a funny feeling that if anyone could give him the answers he was looking for, it would be her. He nodded rather dazedly.

"Uh, did I miss something?" asked Xander, whose jaw was rapidly turning an unpleasant mottled purple color.

"Ugh, I don't have time to explain this now," Buffy groaned. She looked around for another option, and spotted Oz, who had been regarding the scene with what appeared to be nothing more than mild interest. "You mind filling them in for me? And they'd probably make good backup at The Lair."

"The more the merrier," he said.

"Right," said Buffy with a businesslike nod, before turning to Liam yet again. "Let's go." Still very confused, he followed her out of the hotel…

†

…And into complete sensory overload. The lingering traces of his headache and the fresh pain of his split lip were buried under the avalanche of unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells all bearing down on him at once. It was all so loud and bright and metallic. Having already accepted that he was both conscious and sober, he had no idea what to make of any of it.

When Liam failed to keep pace with her after the first couple of steps, Buffy stopped and looked inquiringly back at him, to see that he was frozen just outside the door. His eyes, which were so wide that it seemed like they might pop out of his head any second, followed the path of a diesel truck lumbering up the street. Even though she thought there could probably be much entertainment derived from introducing eighteenth century Liam to the twenty-first century (it wasn't every day that she'd get a third opportunity to introduce him to chocolate for the first time, after all), Buffy was not in a mood to mess around. With a resigned sigh, she reached out and took one of his hands, intending to lead him in the direction of the GTX parked by the curb, but the contact seemed to breach some line of Liam's tolerance. He drew back and looked at her sharply.

"What makes you think I'll be goin' anywhere with you?" he demanded.

"Well, by all means, feel free to go wherever you like," she said derisively, throwing an arm out in a wide sweeping motion.

She had him there; there was no way he was going out into that completely unfamiliar world by himself, but the thought of hiding in the building they'd just left was repugnant to him. He was six-and-twenty, for God's sake! He would not cower away from this strange world like some helpless child.

Buffy noticed his frustration and sighed. "Please just trust me," she said. "I'm trying to help you."

"An' why would ye want to do that?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know." The derision was back, though she didn't really seem to be talking to him anymore. "Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that we're _engaged_."

"Whoa, now, lass," he said, alarmed. "Engaged? I ne'er saw ye before this mornin'! Did my father put ye up to this?"

Stricken, Buffy tried to protest, but he didn't give her time.

"O' course he did! Miserable hypocrite. Can't give me so much as a moment's peace, even after I've left 'is 'ouse fer good. 'E must really be out of ideas, though, if 'e thinks I'll believe it when a lady I barely know tells me we're engaged."

"What?" said Buffy, almost laughing at the absurdity of his accusations. "I've never even _met_ your father! And I don't know what he's tried before, but I'm pretty sure he couldn't do _this_." She held up her left hand so that the gold Claddagh was clearly visible. He stared at the ring, but the only thing it proved to him was that his father couldn't have had anything to do with this. He would never have been able to afford anything so extravagant, and wouldn't be likely to spend his money on something of that sort even if he could.

"Alright, if my father's not behind this, what, then? Are ye with child and out to protect yer own reputation? I'll 'ave no part in that!"

Buffy gaped at him in amazement. She was having trouble figuring out what Darla could have possibly seen in him at that point of his existence, before she remembered that she and Darla prized very different qualities.

"Fine!" she said irritably. "Think what you want, but you're still coming with me."

"Wait," he said, having just realized something.

Buffy groaned and turned back around.

"Does this mean that you an' those three girls in there…_aren't_ tavern wenches?"

"_Yes_, it means that," she said firmly. This was rapidly turning into the most insane day of her life.

"Oh. Well, that explains a lot."

"Are you coming now?"

Seeing no option other than to comply, he nodded.

Buffy led the way to the car, then vaulted over the passenger door and slid with no small amount of eagerness to the driver's side. She was pretty sure this hadn't been what Angel had in mind when he told her she could only drive it when he was with her, at least until she got her license, but the indignation left over from being taken for a tavern wench by him, memory loss or not, meant that she really didn't care.

True to his word, though, Angel had indeed picked up where her many failed attempts at learning to drive had left off ever since they returned from their trip to Cleveland. She felt much more confident in her driving abilities already, even if she still had no idea how to parallel park, and—despite that one stipulation about him accompanying her—Angel had been confident enough in them to have a copy of the key to the GTX made for her, which she now pulled out of her pocket and turned in the ignition for the first time.

The car rumbling beneath her, Buffy looked around. Liam was still standing where she'd left him on the sidewalk, looking even more alarmed than when she'd said they were engaged, which she hadn't thought possible. She forced herself to let go of her hostile emotions and gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster. "Get in," she said, patting the passenger seat.

"Wh-what is it?" he asked, without getting closer.

"It's a car," she said. At his blank look, she elaborated. "Like a carriage without the horses."

"Can't we just use the horses instead?"

"Nope." She leaned over and pushed his door open. "Come on. We're gonna go see a friend."

At last, he relented and climbed in next to her, and she showed him how to put on his seatbelt.

†

"Hey, I found something!" said Dawn excitedly. Everyone looked over at her, Christian appearing to crick his neck while doing so. Willow got up and walked over to stand behind Dawn, and she read quickly over the page. It did indeed describe a memory spell. "What do you think?" asked Dawn after a moment during which the whole room seemed to hold its breath.

"Sorry, Dawn. That can't be it," said Willow.

"What? How can you tell?" asked Dawn, very disappointed. Willow ran her index finger down a line of text in the middle of the page, which Dawn read aloud. "'The intended subject must be marked with the runes and signs of the spell prior to casting.' So?"

"So I'm pretty sure Buffy would have noticed last night if Angel had 'runes and signs' on him," said Willow, raising her eyebrows. "Especially," she turned the page to reveal a number of ghastly-looking symbols, which the next few lines after Dawn stopped reading had referenced, "if they looked like that."

"But how would Buffy have—," Dawn began, confused. Then her eyes widened and she blushed bright pink. "Oh. Yeah. I'll just…keep looking, then."

Willow soon returned to her own book, wondering if she shouldn't just throw it on the growing pile of volumes deemed useless for this particular cause. The footnotes and references to other texts took up more space than the original information, and her eyes felt strained from reading the tiny print for so long. But then one of those references caught her attention. She squinted at it. A paragraph in the section about memory had one footnote that took up several inches at the bottom of the page, which was a reference to a book called _Of Magicks and the Minde_. She could have sworn that she'd seen one with that very title among the small library's worth of books Wesley had left in the hotel, which meant that it could very likely be lying in a pile on one of the tables.

†

"This is the place?" asked Renée. She was a little surprised; she'd expected a demon club to be in a much more unsavory part of town than where Oz had driven them, or at the very least, that the place itself would stand out. There was, however, absolutely nothing distinctive about the square, gray building—though this rather boring inconspicuousness was probably intentional, as it was likely very useful for avoiding unwanted attention.

"Yep," said Oz, pointing. Xander and Renée squinted in the direction he was indicating, and saw a small sign that read "The Lair", which was hung over a large, plain door located at the bottom of a short flight of steps. This wasn't the entrance they headed for, however. Oz had called the owner back in the evening the day before, after conferring with the rest of the band and agreeing to give the place a shot, and the man had told him to drop by any time if he wanted to get a feel for the club, but to use the back entrance if he came during the afternoon. This, Oz now realized, was because the front entrance faced west, which meant that there was a very real possibility that vampires frequented the place at all hours.

The three of them walked through the back door and found themselves backstage. They then had to maneuver somewhat awkwardly around the bulky equipment that appeared to have been left behind by a heavy metal band, but soon reached the main floor of the club. It reminded Xander and Oz a little of the Bronze prior to its remodeling, though the much lower ceiling and overabundance of black lights made it seem like the place was completely underground instead of just four feet below street level. It also had a far more extensive bar than the Bronze, at the end of which sat two figures concealed beneath heavy overcoats and conversing in low, growling voices. The spindly tables scattered about the floor each had two or three chairs sitting upside-down on top of them, and a lavender-skinned female demon moved between with a broom, the end of her long tail curled around the handle of a dustpan. She noticed Xander, Oz, and Renée after a few seconds and came over to them, smiling pleasantly. Her eyes, which had vertical slit pupils like a cat's, caught the glow of the black lights in a rather disconcerting manner, and her eyeteeth were very sharp.

"Good afternoon," she trilled cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, actually, we're looking to talk to the owner," said Oz.

"Oh, okay." She turned her head towards the bar. "Boss!" she called, so much louder than before that Renée jumped. A short, oily-looking man, who seemed to have been hunched over to search the lower shelves for something, popped up into view behind the counter.

"What, Tahn?" he said. Then his eyes widened as they fell upon the three people next to his employee.

Xander stared back for a moment before smirking dryly. "Well, well, well," he said, "if it isn't Willy the Snitch."

†

Buffy pulled carefully into the lot in front of Gunn's apartment complex. "We're here," she announced.

Liam's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Despite his initial misgivings about traveling in the strange metal box with wheels and no visible means of propulsion, he had quite enjoyed the ride. After all, as far as he could remember, he'd never gone so fast in his life, and it had been incredibly exhilarating. Buffy, who'd been honked at twice for her extremely cautious driving, hadn't been able to help laughing at the ridiculousness that was her normally serious Angel behaving like a kid on a rollercoaster when the speedometer passed forty miles per hour.

When she knocked on the glass front door to the complex, the weary old doorman let them in at once. He recognized them from the times they'd brought Gunn groceries while he was still in his wheelchair. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Liam tailed Buffy closely and tried not to look too bewildered. She led him down a narrow hallway towards a stairwell, and they climbed two flights before emerging onto a hallway identical to the first. And suddenly, Liam's patience expired again.

"Alright," he said, halting abruptly. "I've played along with this long enough." Buffy faced him, looking maddeningly unsurprised. "Now, I may not be known fer bein' overly industrious, but I'm no fool. Yesterday, I quit me father's house, but exceptin' that, it wasn't a day much different from any other. Today, the whole world's gone mad, but I'm the only one who seems t'ave noticed. Since, accordin' to you, we're to be married, would ye care to explain a few things?"

Buffy flinched at the way he had scoffed when referencing their engagement, but didn't answer. _What am I supposed to tell him?_ she thought. That question had been plaguing her for hours, and she'd hoped very strongly that he wouldn't make her answer it. _"Sorry, Liam, but someone decided to mess with your head and made you forget two and a half centuries of your life. Why, you ask, are you still alive now after all this time? That's easy! You know that lady you remember meeting in that alley? Well, she turned you into an immortal monster of pure evil, and one of the first things you did after that was kill your whole family."_ _Um, no._

"This isn't Galway," she said finally.

"No, really? I'd actually worked that one out fer meself," he said sarcastically.

"It's not the year seventeen fifty-three, either," she went on. "It's two thousand and four."

His eyes widened and he shook his head. "That's not possible."

"It's really not, but do you have any other ideas?" she asked.

He desperately wished that he did, but no matter how hard he tried to think of a way around it, nothing he had seen since waking up with her could refute her story. "How did I get here?"

"Magic." Well, it was true enough, Buffy thought.

"This…this friend of yours. Can 'e send me back?"

Buffy looked at him a little sadly. He was so very far away from home. "No," she said. When he looked ready to collapse in on himself at this, she quickly put a hand on his arm reassuringly and added, "but maybe he can tell us who did it so that we can get closer to fixing it."

He nodded, swallowing hard.

"Come on," she said gently. She slipped her hand into his, and to her relief, he gripped it back, and they continued to walk down the hall. But when they passed the door of the apartment before Gunn's, which had a "For Rent" sign on its surface, Buffy stiffened.

"What is it?" asked Liam. She didn't answer, but looked around, then let out a yell and shoved him hard, sending him tumbling to the carpeted floor. A split-second later, a crossbow bolt _thwacked_ into the wall, having passed through the exact place Liam's head would have been if Buffy hadn't pushed him, and three burly vampires emerged from the uninhabited apartment.

†

"You know this guy?" asked Renée, looking from Xander to Willy in surprise. Tahn went back to her sweeping, but shot them frequent furtive glances out of the corners of her eyes.

"We go way back," said Xander in a low voice, his eye still fixed upon the familiar seedy barman. "Used to beat him up for information in Sunnydale."

Oz raised his eyebrows at this gross exaggeration, but didn't challenge it.

"If any demons know about Angel's memory loss," Xander continued, "chances are he's heard something." He then sauntered forward, the other two in tow. "How've you been, Willy?" he asked, leaning up against the bar. He was pleased to hear the slight note of menace beneath his friendly tone. This was already going much better than the last time.

"Not bad," said Willy. "You look real sharp with that eyepatch, by the way."

"Thanks," said Xander. He felt flattered for half a second before mentally kicking himself. His expression hardened, and he pointed an accusing finger at Willy. "Hey, I'm not here for a morale session, pal. Don't try to tell me you've cleaned up your act since you came to L.A."

Renée winced. This was definitely the wrong strategy.

"Uh, Xander, mind if I take the wheel?" said Oz.

Xander wanted to protest, but quickly decided that Oz's much smoother manner would probably work to their advantage.

Oz turned to Willy. "You called about the band," he said.

Willy instantly relaxed. "Yeah," he said. "So, you guys really up for it?" He looked very eager.

"Definitely," said Oz. "Trying to play in a new state is kinda tough." Illogical Stop Sign had actually been booked quite a respectable amount of the time so far, but Willy didn't need to know that.

"So's establishing a new place in a city like this at first, but you'd be surprised how quick the business picks up," said Willy. "I wish I'd moved here sooner."

"And it's gotta be hard to find bands to play in this kind of club."

"Yeah, tell me about it! The place went a whole month last winter on canned music!" The memory of this was evidently still painful to him.

"That's too bad, man," said Oz, shaking his head sympathetically. Xander and Renée watched this unfold in amazement. "You must have been pretty excited when you heard about a new band that fit the bill."

"Are you kidding? It was a lifesaver! And you'll really do it?"

"Oh yeah. I'm just curious, though. I mean, we're both from Sunnydale. Did you remember about me being a werewolf from back then, or what?"

"Nah, got tipped off by one of the new regulars. Nice kid."

"Leaves great tips," piped up Tahn from beside one of the closest tables to the bar, where she'd been dawdling with the broom through the entire conversation. Her cheeks turned a much deeper shade of purple when all four of them looked at her, and she hastily moved on.

"He's the one who told you about Lorin and Alex too, right?" said Oz, as if there hadn't been an interruption.

"Yep."

"I've gotta be sure to thank him for the referral, then."

"You don't already know him?" Willy looked confused. "You three are working with that Slayer from Sunnydale over at the Hyperion, right?"

"Aye," said Renée, who wasn't the only one becoming rather unnerved by how knowledgeable the man was.

"Right! Well, he's one of your new recruits. He was really impressed when I told him I used to live in the Slayer's town, back when she was still, you know, _the_ Slayer."

"And what else did you tell him?" asked Xander, his eye narrowed.

"Mostly just what I remembered about what you guys used to get up to in Sunnydale, but he did start asking a lot of questions about Angel. And I heard he's human now. Is that right? Good for him." Willy hesitated, his dark eyes darting warily to each of their faces in turn, suddenly uncertain. "Wait, what's this about, anyway? A guy can't have a nice chat about old times over a few drinks?"

"Just tell us the name of the bloke," said Renée. Her tone was friendly, but he didn't fall for it.

"Hey, hey, I'm not just handing over one of my best customers on a platter, okay? I don't even know why this is so upsetting to you. The guy's not even a demon!"

"No," said Xander with a heavy scowl, "but it sounds like he might be responsible for the problem everyone's been scrambling to solve all day."

"And he managed it because of the information _you_ gave him," added Renée.

"So!" said Xander, who was delighted for a legitimate opening to be threatening. "Are you gonna be part of the problem, or part of the solution?" He reached over and plucked a few peanuts out of a bowl in what he considered to be an intimidating way.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Willy, his hands out. "You're not laying this one on me, are you? I had no idea!"

"Just tell us his name," said Oz.

"Supposing I do tell you. Your band is still coming to play here, right?"

"You want us, you got us," Oz promised. "Next weekend, even."

Willy swallowed and looked at each of them again nervously.

†

Shifting into full Slayer mode with the ease of nearly a decade of practice, Buffy ripped the crossbow bolt from the wall and rounded on the vampires. The nearest was dust before he had time to so much as growl at her, but the other two weren't quite as slow on the uptake. The crossbow meant this was a planned ambush, but from the vampires' identical expressions of surprise at how easily she had dispatched their fellow, Buffy gathered that this ambush had not been designed to be sprung on a Slayer.

From the floor, Liam stared in horror at the two monstrous things bearing down on Buffy. He hadn't seen her kill the first one, and therefore couldn't believe she wasn't fleeing in terror. She was actually fighting them! What was she thinking? They were twice her size! But it quickly became apparent to him that there was quite a lot more to her than met the eye. She dodged nimbly when they lunged for her, then seized one and sent him crashing into his companion with shocking force. She then plunged the slender wooden shaft through each of their chests in quick succession, and they disintegrated into harmless clouds of dust, which drifted to the floor and soiled the previously clean carpet.

Buffy brushed herself free of the dust that had landed on her, then peeked into the apartment from which the vampires had come. "Thank God nobody lived there," she muttered. After bending down to retrieve the fallen crossbow and putting the bolt she'd used as a stake into her pocket, she walked over to Liam.

"How did ye do that?" he asked, taking the hand she offered and allowing her to pull him back up.

"I do that all the time," she said, almost smiling.

"Ye 'aven't told me everythin'," he accused. "Tell me."

"You don't know what you're asking," she said, turning away from him.

"I don't care!" he practically shouted, throwing up his hands. "I need to know! Why am I 'ere? Why'd I wake up with you? Why've you an' two people I've ne'er seen before called me 'Angel' as if it were me actual name? As if they _knew_ me? Why was there a drawin' of me in that girl's book? Why is my hair short, an' why do these strange clothes I've ne'er worn before fit me so well? What were those men, an' why'd they turn to ash? _Tell_ me!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes. "_Tell me_," he repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper.

At that point, a tiny old lady with enormous glasses that made her eyes look several times too big for her face, who had obviously heard the commotion of the fight, poked her head out of the apartment across the hall from the one the vampires had used and glared at them suspiciously. Buffy quickly hid the crossbow behind her back and smiled innocently at her, then tugged Liam towards the door of Gunn's apartment. The old lady followed their progress for a few seconds, finally retreating back into her apartment when Buffy knocked on Gunn's door. Buffy looked up at Liam, and his expression told her at once that he still expected an answer.

"Not out here," she said, jerking her thumb at the door through which the old lady had disappeared. She knocked on the door again, but nobody answered, and she started to feel worried—what if those vampires had already gotten to Gunn? It was very unlikely that he would have invited them in, but something else could have happened. She had almost decided to break down the door, when she remembered about the spare key. "Can you feel around at the top of the doorframe for me?" she said. "I can't reach."

Liam obliged mutely, and a few seconds later they were inside Gunn's sparsely decorated apartment.

†

"I've got it!" said Tobias triumphantly, accidentally knocking his chair over as he stood up with a flourish. While Willow and Dawn perked up hopefully, most of the other Watchers-in-training looked deeply disappointed, and Christian openly glared.

"How can you be sure?" asked Giles.

"Everything fits. It describes the effects exactly," he said. "Mystically-induced memory loss spanning a fixable number of years, complete reversion to the temperament and emotional habits that prevailed at the point of last retained memory…"

"Does it say how to reverse it?" asked Willow.

"It does, and it looks pretty easy to set up. I think I've even got most of this stuff with my supplies up in my room."

"That's great!" said Dawn, "I'll help you get it." He put the book down and they both departed. Predictably, as soon as they were gone, a few resentful mutters passed between the tables. Rolling his eyes at this childish behavior, Giles walked over to Tobias's table and picked up the open book. Willow joined him and watched his eyes move rapidly back and forth down the page. Every few lines, he would give a small nod as he grew more and more convinced that Tobias had been right. After a moment, he shifted the book into the crook of one arm so he could free up a hand to readjust his glasses, and the light caught the faded golden lettering on the book's peeling leather cover, enabling Willow to read the title. It was _Of Magicks and the Minde_. She _had_ seen it before! But…she stared closely at the dilapidated black cover. That was the same book that…

"Well, he's definitely onto something with this," said Giles.

"Wait," said Willow, frowning. "Let me see that." He moved closer so that she could get a better look at the pages he was reading, but she wasn't looking at the text. Her hand drifted up to the top left corner, which was faintly creased, as if someone had dog-eared that page and then carefully smoothed it flat again. Her frown deepening by the second, she turned back one page. Together, she and Giles began to read. Five seconds later, they stopped and exchanged a dark glance, both having realized at the same time that this page contained the spell that had caused the memory loss in the first place.

Without a word, Willow darted from the ballroom. In less than a minute, she arrived, panting, in Angel's room, where she frantically began pulling out dresser drawers and throwing the contents aside. She then did the same to the nightstand, but her furious search yielded nothing. Frustrated, she straightened up and cried, "Ostendo sum!" There was a bright flash of golden light from under the bed, and Willow immediately flattened herself against the floor so she could see. _There_.

With some difficulty, she retrieved the object. It was a cumbersome talisman that vaguely resembled an owl and was exactly what was depicted in the far right column of the page of the book containing the spell. Clamped in its roughly hewn beak were several strands of Angel's hair.

†

Before Liam could start interrogating her again, Buffy flitted quickly through the living room, kitchen, and bedroom, but there was no sign of Gunn. Fortunately, there was also no sign of a struggle, and a message from Anne on the answering machine revealed that he'd made plans to do some work with her at the shelter for most of the day, and that he would have left to do so at a time of the day when sunlight was flooding the outer hallway from the large, eastward-facing window at its end.

A feeling of great trepidation in her stomach in spite of her relief that Gunn had probably reached Anne's shelter safely, Buffy reemerged into the living room, where she found Liam holding a picture frame that normally sat on the lamp table next to the couch. She immediately knew why it would have caught his attention. It contained a large photograph, taken two and a half years ago, which featured Angel, Gunn, Cordelia, Fred, and Wesley, all looking particularly cheerful in the afterglow of solving one of their bigger cases.

Liam became aware of Buffy's presence after a moment and gently put the picture frame back in its place, then looked at her expectantly.

"Okay," she began. "You didn't _skip_ all of the time that's passed between your yesterday in Ireland and today here. You _lived_ it. You just don't remember. Something took your memory last night. We don't know who it was or why or how they did it yet, but that's what we came here to try to find out. I thought Gunn," she pointed him out in the picture, "might have a few ideas for us. Everyone else is back at the hotel researching or out in the city tracking down other leads."

He didn't want to know the answer. He _didn't_. But he asked anyway. "'Ow've I been alive all this time?"

"Technically you haven't. Those things I killed in the hallway? Vampires." She closed her eyes. "You were one of them. For two and a half centuries."

"But they attacked you," said Liam. "They would've killed us both! They're evil. Monsters." He felt like he was being backed slowly but surely into a corner, with no way to escape.

"Generally speaking, yes, they are," said Buffy. She could tell by his expression that as terrified as he was of what else she would tell him, he was too morbidly fascinated to stop before he knew it all.

"And…was I?" he asked. He knew the legends. Rumors, superstitions. Whispers about the dead rising in the night to drain the blood of the living. His father had sometimes scoffed at such tales, but even he had never invited a stranger into their home after dark.

"For the first century and a half," said Buffy. Liam sank slowly onto the couch, his eyes unfocused and bright with moisture. "But it's not like you did it on purpose," she hastened to add. "It was your body, but not your soul. Then you got that back, and you were _good_."

But he was barely listening now. He could handle being worthless. It was a lot more fun than working, the only person who suffered from it was himself, and he was usually too drunk to care. But a century and a half of evil… Could he have prevented it if he hadn't left home? How many people had he hurt? Killed? Lazy and arrogant he might be, and quite insufferably so at times, but tavern brawls aside, he couldn't recall having harmed another human being in his whole life. He felt as if his lungs would collapse in anguish.

He felt a hand on his face then, and turned to see that Buffy had moved to sit beside him, and there were tears in her eyes too. "Angel, please, listen to me. I've known you since I was sixteen years old, and you've done _so much_ good. Saved me, countless people in this city, the world! Rid the dimension of an evil megalomaniacal law firm. Slain a dragon. Earned your humanity back."

They both jumped, but Liam much more violently, when Buffy's cell phone chose that moment to ring. She pulled it out, a little annoyed, but her irritation vanished when she saw that the call was from Xander.

"Anything?" she asked, hastily wiping her eyes as though Xander would be able to hear her tears if she didn't get rid of them.

"The identity of the person holding the smoking gun, courtesy of none other than Willy the Snitch," he said. "And Willow just called Oz. They figured the rest of it out, and it sounds like they'll be ready to put Angel's memory back as soon as you get him back to the hotel."

Buffy breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Xand," she said. "See you soon." She snapped the phone closed, but when she turned to Liam to share the good news, was surprised to find him staring at her in horror. Buffy had unwittingly left her phone on speaker mode, and bewildered though Liam was to hear the voice of the man whose jaw and ego he'd bruised issuing from the strange little device, he had managed to follow every word of the brief conversation.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You're goin' to make me remember all of that?" he asked.

Buffy blinked. "Well, yeah…. You…you don't want your memory back?" That possibility had never even occurred to her.

"No!" he said vehemently, looking appalled. "Why would I want to remember? Even if the last few years were all good deeds an' savin' the world—livin' with the _idea_ that I was a monster like the ones you killed out there fer a hundred an' fifty years is bad enough, but you would force me to carry the actual _memories_ again?"

"Angel, I—"

"No!" he said again, standing up. "My name is Liam."

Buffy sat and stared at him for a full minute, feeling worse by far than she had at any point that morning.

"I won't make you remember if you don't want to," she said finally, her voice almost too quiet for him to hear. "It's your mind, so it's your choice."

He nodded mechanically, his back still to her. Before they left to return to the hotel, Buffy remembered to leave a note for Gunn about the vampires they had encountered.

†

About thirty minutes later, Willow emerged slowly into the lobby, where Tobias and Dawn were painting a large white symbol on the floor. Walking forward, Willow saw that it looked exactly like the conduit for the spell she had found under Angel's bed. The only difference was that the large eyes of the painted owl were open, though those of the talisman had been closed. _Of Magicks and the Minde_ lay on the floor beside Tobias.

"You know, that book looks a lot like the one you told me was useless this morning," she said offhandedly, coming to a halt a couple of feet away from the lines of white paint just as Dawn put the finishing touches on one of the wings. Tobias looked up at her.

"What?" he asked.

"Did you just miss the page with this spell the first time you read it?"

"I guess. The pages stick together a lot." Dawn looked at him, her brow furrowing.

"Even if the corner is dog-eared?" asked Willow. "And all of this stuff," she gestured at the paint for the symbol and then at the two fat candles and the bag of herbs sitting next to him, "was just conveniently sitting in your room?"

The color began to drain from Tobias's face.

"Oh, my God," said Dawn, horrified. "It was _you_?" She stood up and moved quickly away from him to join Willow instead. Tobias stood too, but just then, the front doors opened, and in came Oz, Xander, and Renée. Seconds later, the doors opposite them opened as well, and through them came Giles, Buffy, and Liam. Everyone had their eyes fixed upon Tobias—except Liam, who alternately stared sullenly at the floor and contemptuously at Giles.

"You didn't miss that page," Willow went on. "Or the page before it that describes how to _remove_ memories. But you must have realized that even if you made sure none of us read the right book, this many people would eventually find the answer anyway, so you rigged it so you'd be the one to get the credit. Clever way to cover your tracks, but you missed a couple of footprints."

"This is quite a rare little contraption, isn't it?" said Giles, holding up the talisman and looking at it with a furrowed brow. "A little over half an hour ago, I had a very interesting phone call with the proprietor of a certain magical supply shop across town that happened to get missed out when we made our list of leads to follow. Very helpful chap. He mentioned that he'd sold this to a young man fitting your description. Yesterday afternoon, in fact."

"And you oughta be more careful about which club owners you get your information from," said Xander.

Pinned by seven condemning glares, Tobias looked like he was about to be sick. A light sheen of sweat had broken out across his face, and the muscles in his jaw were visibly clenching and unclenching.

"Who do you work for?" asked Giles. "Wolfram and Hart? A demonic organization?"

"What?" yelped Tobias. "N-no, I would never! I just—I wanted to be a Watcher!"

"Right," said Oz. "So, because you failed the training exercise, you decided to create a problem that only you would know how to solve."

"Which is cheating," said Dawn, who felt disgusted with herself for not having seen through him.

"But I can still fix it if—"

"Actually, you can't," said Buffy, her tone flat and grim. "He doesn't want his memories back." This distracted everyone else from Tobias. They looked at Liam instead, and he met their surprised stares with a defiant scowl. Buffy, meanwhile, began to walk forward. "You sat there and watched while everyone in this hotel spent their whole day as pawns in your game. But what's worse," she took three more steps, putting her barely a foot away from him, "is that you decided to pull this on Angel _the same night_ he and I were celebrating our engagement."

While Tobias withered under her glare, Xander did a double take. "Wait, you and Angel are _engaged_?" he asked loudly.

Buffy ignored him. "Your little stunt cost me my fiancé." Her voice had become so deadly that a few of the others were surprised that Tobias hadn't spontaneously combusted. "If you'd talked to Willy a little more, you might have found out that that's not the kind of thing I would handle well." She seized him by the front of his vest and jerked him down so that his face was a mere inch away from hers. "So you're just gonna have to take my word for it that running into me again might not be an experience you'd live through."

With that, she released him abruptly and took a step back. Tobias staggered and almost fell over, then regained his footing and fled. Renée and Oz stepped aside to allow him access to the door, and then he was gone.

†

Liam paced agitatedly around his—no, Angel's—suite, which still had clothes and various of his other belongings strewn across the floor from when Willow had ransacked the place in search of the talisman. Night had fallen, and artificial light filled the room. It frustrated Liam deeply to see so much evidence that less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been perfectly functional in this environment. It only made it more obvious that everything he knew was long gone, turned to dust, and irretrievable. He was a living relic of the past, and the loneliness was unbearable.

But he wasn't alone. He remembered the impossibly lifelike picture at Gunn's apartment, with the four smiling faces next to his own. And not just them. The people in this place knew him too. They had all been working the whole day to help him—even Xander, who clearly despised him. And then there was Buffy. After putting up with a great deal of unpleasantness from him for the past few hours, she had still stood by him.

He knew his father had been entirely justified when he called him a disappointment, but the poor choices and habits that had earned him that reprimand were hardly a drop in the bucket compared to what he'd done for three fifths of the intervening time between then and now. What had he ever done to deserve all of the treatment these people were giving him now? What had he done that would ever have persuaded a woman like Buffy to let him put that ring on her finger?

He was pulled from his thoughts when his pacing carried him close to the nightstand and his foot connected with an object on the floor. He bent down to retrieve it. It was a sketchbook, similar to the one Renée had shown him, and he realized that if it was in this room, it must be his. Curious, he sat down on the edge of the bed and flipped the book open.

†

Buffy and Willow were the only ones in the lobby, sitting silently on one of the red sofas together. Buffy hadn't cried, she had merely curled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on Willow's shoulder as her staring contest with the owl painted on the floor dragged on and on, the winner still undetermined.

It wasn't the sort of silence Willow wanted to break. What could she say, anyway? All that really mattered was that she remain there as long as Buffy needed her, glaring away anyone who tried to intrude. She'd gotten so used to everything being quiet that the footsteps were very obvious, even when they were still just barely audible. Looking up, she saw Liam slowly descending the stairs, and she nudged Buffy gently.

Buffy's eyes locked on Liam, and she felt Willow squeeze her hand briefly before departing. Buffy stood up and walked over to meet him as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Hi," she said.

He was looking at her intently, his gaze roving carefully across her every feature. "I want to remember," he said. He looked slightly afraid, but determined.

Buffy blinked, feeling hope flicker to life in her chest. "What, uh," she cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice from cracking, "what changed your mind?"

"I found a book of drawings—well, _my_ book of drawings, I suppose."

Buffy smiled. She had looked through that sketchbook many times.

"I want to remember what I felt when I drew the people in that book. I want to remember 'ow I came to be 'ere after everythin' that 'appened before."

"How can you be sure it's worth it?" she whispered. He reached out and clasped his fingers around her left hand, stroking his thumb over her ring.

"I've ne'er been more sure of anythin' in me whole life."

†

Much later in the evening, Xander could be found scouring the hotel for his girlfriend. Eventually, he discovered her in a dimly lit corridor on the fifth floor, leaning against the wall.

"There you are," he said.

No reaction.

"What's up?" he tried again.

She shrugged, and he decided to get to the point. "I know something's up. You've been avoiding me ever since Buffy sent Tobias packing with his tail permanently between his legs. It's pretty noticeable when you live in the same building as the person you're trying to avoid." Renée stepped away from the wall and faced him. She looked uncomfortable, but determined.

"Did you expect different after that little stooshie you had with Angel today?" she asked, staring significantly at the livid bruise along his jaw.

Xander, who had grown quite skilled at interpreting Scottish jargon over the past five months, didn't need to ask what "stooshie" meant. He folded his arms and looked at her in slight bemusement. "He wasn't really Angel at that point," he reminded her.

"Angel, Liam, whatever. You would've hit him either way."

"Probably, yeah."

She sighed impatiently. "Xander, I'm not a damsel in distress. I don't need—or want—you to brawl with any bloke who thinks he can have a go with me to convince him that he's mistaken. I'm quite capable of getting that message across myself."

"That's not the message it looked like you were getting across." The words had jumped out of his mouth without asking permission from his brain first, and he immediately wished he could reach out and snatch them back. Renée's expression hardened. But then, Xander thought stubbornly, even if it was a low blow, he had a point. "You've been hanging out with him a lot lately. And, hey, what's not to like? Especially when you're big art buddies now."

"Look," said Renée, who did not appreciate being put on the defensive. "I grew up with four brothers, and all my life, most of my friends have been blokes. Just because you're the first one to take a bit more interest doesnae mean you've got the right to pull that kind of jealous alpha male tripe."

Xander blinked. He hadn't missed what she'd implied, probably inadvertently: he was the first boyfriend she'd ever had. After letting that sink in for a few seconds, he deflated.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a cautious step closer to her. "You're right, I overreacted. I've never been a big fan of Angel, and seeing _that_ after so long being a non-fan made me kinda insane."

"Well," she said, her tone becoming much friendlier, "I'm probably going to be avoiding him until I can repress the memory of that dreadful come-on." She shuddered, and Xander grinned.

"So, we're okay?" he asked hopefully.

"No." His face fell, and he was very confused when she stepped forward then and planted a brief kiss on his lips. "But we will be if you get us some ice cream and we watch 'Jaynestown'."

He let out a hearty laugh, and she smiled, grabbed his hands, and tugged him towards the stairs.

†

Having finished drying off from his shower, Angel secured the towel around his waist and reached out to wipe the fog off of the mirror. For a moment he stood there, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. In the space of about twelve hours—a third of which he'd spent unconscious—, he'd managed to break Buffy's heart _again_, traumatize three of her friends, and rupture the tenuous unspoken truce between himself and Xander. It was like looking back at some particularly idiotic thing he'd done as a kid, but with the damage still raw and no excuse of immaturity and unstable hormones to hide behind. Still scowling, he brushed his teeth, rinsed out his mouth, and went to leave the bathroom.

Upon opening the door, he froze, staring at his room. The chaotic mess of his possessions strewn across the floor had been cleaned up, and there were a lot more things in there than there had been twenty minutes ago. The top of his dresser was covered with unfamiliar objects, a few cardboard boxes were scattered here and there, and a squashy little blue armchair was sitting cozily close to his big dark burgundy one. Just when he noticed the stuffed pig sitting on the cushion, Buffy entered the room, carrying another box, and closed the door behind her with her foot.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Buffy coughed pointedly and smirked. "I thought that was, you know, _really_ obvious," she said slowly, putting the box down and raising her eyebrows at him. "I'm moving in."

"No, I knew that," he said. He was actually incredibly happy about that, but wasn't quite ready to be sidetracked by it yet. "It's just, I thought you'd want some space after—," he broke off with a grimace.

"Well, I'm _not_ sorry that 'eat, drink, and be merry' guy is buried two and a half centuries in your past again. I didn't really appreciate you calling me a tavern wench, and I'll be adding a few hours from today to the pile of stuff I need to never think about again," she said with a humorless chuckle. "Even though there aren't words for how sweet you were right there at the end. Plus, that accent was really sexy," she couldn't resist adding.

Angel raised an eyebrow, but remained serious. "But you're not mad?" he pressed doggedly.

Buffy looked amused. "Your conscience never gives you even the tiniest break, does it?" she asked good-naturedly. After everything that had happened that day, it was not in her power to resent him for that.

"Not since the first time I got it back," he said ruefully.

"Okay, then…" She thought for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin. "In punishment, I'm taking away your bachelor party privileges. Happy?"

If it weren't for the thought of Gunn's reaction when he relayed this news to him, Angel hardly would have considered it a punishment at all, but he nodded meekly all the same. "Great! Now that that's over with," she sauntered across the room to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, "can we finish finding out what Willow meant about engagement perks?" Angel rewarded her with the same mischievous half-smile she'd caught a few glimpses of earlier in the day, but she liked it much better now that it was paired with the love shining in his eyes.

"Gladly. Now, what was it ye were sayin' about the accent?" he asked in a heavy brogue. Buffy's eyelids fluttered and her knees turned to jelly. It was lucky that his arms were already around her. The only response she could offer to his question was a faint giggle, followed by covering his smirking lips with her own.

†

Grand Island, Nebraska

The girl's agonized screams were stifled by the cold hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Her struggles proved utterly futile, and they were growing weaker by the second. Finally, she became completely still, and her body was dropped to the grimy cement, where the light on the corner of the warehouse glinted off the rivulets of blood that had leaked from the wound on her neck.

A new figure emerged out of the darkness and into the dim bluish light. "Why, there you are, Spike," she said, then pouted when she noticed the body on the ground. "Ohh," she whined sadly, "you've gone and had dinner without me. Very naughty of you."

"We'll just have to find another one for you, then, won't we, Dru?" he drawled lazily.

Drusilla smiled, humming contentedly for a moment and trailing her fingers slowly up his chest, but then her hands spasmed suddenly into fists, pulling the material around the collar of his long duster taut with the force of her grip, and her whole body started to tremble. "What is it, pet?" he asked, sliding his fingers through her thick, dark hair and tracing his thumb gently along her jaw. "Mama Smurf onto us again?"

Drusilla's visions had proven incredibly useful when it came to avoiding Illyria, who was quite a capable pursuer in spite of her limited understanding of the modern world. There had been one close call in Denver a week and a half ago. So close, in fact, that Spike had actually caught a glimpse of blue-streaked hair in the distance just as the freight train on which he and Drusilla had stowed away lurched out of the yard. They'd been on the move almost nonstop ever since, and up until a few seconds ago, he'd been starting to think they might have lost Illyria for good.

"The housekeeper's gone and changed the whole manor while her lord and lady were on holiday," murmured Drusilla in a tone of wonder, her gaze a hundred miles away. "But nobody was watching the road to see when they'd return, and now they've come home again terribly cross. The housekeeper made it very nice, but they say it wasn't her place." She returned to the present enough to focus on Spike's face, and he was unnerved by how afraid she suddenly looked. "Oh, Spike, they are so_ very_ cross. I shouldn't like to meet them when they see what she has done."

"Then we'll give the buggers the slip," he said confidently. Long experience had taught him that it would be wasted effort to attempt to force more lucid explanations from her before she was ready to give them.

"Yes," she said, nodding and relaxing her grip slightly, though she still looked worried. "And we'll pluck a few stars to take with us. They never look at them; they won't be missed. We'll have them all to ourselves." She giggled.

"Just you, me, and the stars, love," he agreed, his voice taking on a distinctly possessive edge as his features became demonic again. Much like when she'd lifted him out of his pathetic human life, she'd been the one to free him from the pain, despair, and loss he'd known under the influence of a soul, and he'd be damned again before he'd let another poncy chaos demon—or anything else—make her forget it. He pressed her hard against the side of the warehouse and kissed her forcefully. Eventually, his lips left her mouth to trail down towards her throat, which vibrated as she began to hum again. "Just you, me, and the stars."

* * *

Okay, this is officially my favorite of all the episodes I've written so far. I got to drag Buffy across the entire emotional spectrum, made it (hopefully) a little easier to see how a man like Liam could eventually become the Angel we know and love, got Xander and (sort of) Angel to have their very long-awaited and more-evenly-matched-than-it-could-possibly-have-been-otherwise brawl, let the mad brilliance of Willow, Giles, and Oz shine especially brightly, brought Willy the Snitch back along with inventing a quirky demon employee for him (who I adore), gave Renée some actual backstory, made the Sean Maher character into the villain (well, more of a fool than a villain, really), and ended all lovely and chilling with Spike and Dru. Yeah. Definitely my favorite episode. Also, demon-ographics. I love making up new words.


	6. 9x06: Future's Epigraph

Episode 6: Future's Epigraph

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

†

Friday, August 6, 2004

The Scoobies didn't think they'd ever had a busier summer. Whether by training newcomers, being trained, patrolling, sparring, or researching, everyone's time was almost always occupied. On top of that, Illogical Stop Sign went on a couple of tours that took them all over California, Xander and Renée got a couple of issues farther into their comic, and Dawn did enough online schoolwork to allow her to graduate from high school in December instead of May.

For Buffy and Willow, the part of the summer that was not taken up with training new Slayers and Watchers or helping to quell the refreshingly small number of supernatural disturbances that cropped up in the city and surrounding suburbs was spent giggling and poring over bridal magazines and wedding catalogues or trying to ask Alex, Faith, and Sam for advice. Since Alex's wedding could barely be considered more than an elopement, she wasn't particularly useful in these interrogations, and they somehow always managed to get the answering machine when they tried to contact Faith, even though Giles never had a problem reaching Wood for updates. Sam did give them a few pointers, but was far too busy with her impending entrance into graduate school to get overly chatty about it. Remembering who she had to thank that her husband wasn't on the front lines in the brutal never-ending war of his home dimension instead of playing gigs with Oz, Alex, and Cole, however, she did as much as she could.

Even though Willow had only suggested it in that initial moment of nearly unintelligible excitement when she learned of Buffy and Angel's engagement, they ultimately decided to have a joint ceremony after all. This was largely for convenience, since they were already planning to invite mostly the same people, and this way, their friends in Ohio would only have to make the trip once.

Angel and Oz were perfectly content to let Buffy and Willow plan the thing, and found themselves spending a lot more time hanging out elsewhere whenever their respective brides-to-be held their increasingly enthusiastic planning sessions. Having lived through the veritable nightmare that had been the planning stages of Xander and Anya's failed wedding, neither Buffy nor Willow was very eager for anything flashy or extravagant. Even so, it was a mark of how truly kindred their spirits were that the planning of the double wedding went as seamlessly as it did.

Buffy felt only a slight twinge of disappointment when she failed to contact her father despite what she considered to be quite a respectable effort to do so. His continued absence probably wouldn't have affected her even that much if it hadn't been for the willing presence of the Osbournes and Rosenbergs. But even if Hank Summers had put in an appearance, the privilege of giving Buffy away would have still fallen to Giles. More disappointing to both Buffy and Angel was the absence of Faith and Wood, who hadn't been able to leave Europe.

It was very fortunate for the inhabitants of the Hyperion that Ira and Sheila Rosenberg had decided to stay at a normal hotel, as this allowed them to carry on with their regular Watcher/Slayer training activities as usual. On the other hand, to the surprise of everyone but Oz, Thomas and Elaine Osbourne not only stayed at the Hyperion, but took the goings-on there perfectly in stride. In fact, their only reaction upon walking into the lobby (where several sparring matches were taking place, Laurel and Alex were sharpening axes by the counter, and Dawn, Cole, Christian, and Roger were researching demons around the coffee table) was to raise their eyebrows in casual interest before inquiring after their son and his fiancée.

The day of the wedding finally arrived, and the ceremony was held at a large gazebo in a park Buffy had gone to many times as a child, and took place in the middle of a beautiful sunny day. This was both in celebration of Angel being human and an easy way around the slight complication presented by Willow and Oz having a Jewish wedding and Buffy and Angel having a Catholic one. The color scheme was uncomplicated, with deep rosy crimson as the only major color besides the obvious black and white. Buffy's and Willow's dresses were simple and elegant, complementing each other well and neither outshining the other. Xander was Oz's best man, while Gunn was Angel's, and Connor, Cole, and Lorin were the other groomsmen, and Dawn was the maid of honor for both Buffy and Willow, with Renée, Anne, Alex, and Sam as the bridesmaids. Demonstrating that more than monosyllabic tendencies and unflappability were genetic, Oz's parents provided the music, with Thomas at a rented grand piano and Elaine on a violin that looked as if it had been in the family for a few generations. The front row of seats was left empty in honor of all of the family and friends with whom both couples would have liked to share the happy event, but could not. It was a long row.

The moment Giles and Ira led Buffy and Willow into view, at the far end of the aisle, Angel's and Oz's faces both cracked into rare enormous grins. The beautiful music swelled, and by the time the brides had been led all the way up the aisle, everyone in the wedding party and most of the guests were either beaming or crying, and all four of the main participants were doing both at once, each feeling overwhelmed that the thing they never thought they'd be lucky enough to have was actually happening. At long last, Buffy joined Angel before the priest and Willow stood next to Oz beneath the chuppah.

On more than one occasion while the vows—which were slightly complicated, as Father Morrow and Rabbi Yaskin, who seemed obstinately determined not to coordinate well, had to alternate with portions of each set of vows without cutting each other off—were exchanged, Sheila (who couldn't quite believe that her daughter was actually marrying a musician) could be heard making disgruntled comments about Oz and his parents, the odd names and lack of family members of the other couple, or why they would even want to do a joint wedding if they insisted on making it an interfaith ceremony. After the rings were exchanged and the guests were applauding, mazel tov-ing, and pelting rice at the newlyweds, the priest and rabbi actually broke into an argument, though this went unnoticed by most.

All in all, as well as the wedding went in spite of the minor mishaps of Sheila's lack of tact and the animosity between Father Morrow and Rabbi Yaskin, none of the participants were particularly sorry to have it over with. Still basking in the glow of the event, Buffy and Angel were so preoccupied with getting lost in each other's eyes that Xander asked them if they needed a map to get back to reality. Unfortunately for him, though they failed to notice that he had spoken at all, Renée had heard him clearly and hit him indignantly on the arm on their behalf. As she had slightly underestimated the amount of force that could go into a light smack if Slayer strength was involved, this was no laughing matter.

†

Feeling slightly guilty for doing all of the planning themselves, Buffy and Willow had left the honeymoon plans to the guys. However, they found that they regretted this decision when Angel and Oz led them to the international passengers line at LAX.

Unable to bear her curiosity any longer, Buffy turned to Angel and put on her most irresistible imploring tone. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Angel smirked. "Remember when you wanted it to be a surprise?" he said.

Buffy pouted.

"You're not gonna tell me where we're going either, are you?" asked Willow.

"Nope," said Oz.

"You could always try that mind-reading thing on them, Wil," said Buffy hopefully.

"That only works if they're thinking _at_ me. And, besides, it's cheating," she said.

"I guess we'll just have to seduce it out of them, then."

"Whoa, Buff, save that for the honeymoon suite. Some of us have delicate eyes. Or, in my case, delicate _eye_."

Buffy, Angel, Willow, and Oz all turned to see, to their bemusement, that Xander, Renée, Giles, Connor, and Dawn had all gotten in line behind them, each tugging suitcases just as large as theirs. "Um, not that I don't love you all, but what are you doing here? Because you can't come with us," said Buffy, latching onto Angel in a blatantly possessive manner and glaring suspiciously at them.

"Who said we're going with you?" asked Dawn, looking revolted.

"Huh?" said Willow.

"Well," she said, a little impatiently, "since I helped out so much with the wedding, I thought I deserved to go on a trip too. Look out, London, here I come."

"Connor?" asked Angel.

"Oh, I'm going with her," he said, holding up their clasped hands and shrugging. "Have to write a big paper on a museum for my summer history project, and I'm pretty sure the British Museum is my best bet for getting an A on that."

"And who better to have along as chaperone and tour guide than the former curator," said Giles unenthusiastically.

"Aw, cheer up, Giles, you're getting a trip home out of this!" said Dawn, prodding Giles in the ribs. He gave a slightly pained smile.

"Okay," said Buffy, still feeling a little wrong-footed. "What about you?" she asked, turning to Xander and Renée.

"We're going to visit my family," said Renée brightly. "I havnae seen them since November, and this seems like a good opportunity for Xander to meet them."

Xander offered his trademark goofy grin as confirmation.

"But who's gonna look after the hotel and be in charge of the Slayers and Watchers-in-training?" asked Willow, confused.

"Gunn and Anne," said Xander. "And they'll probably be getting help from Alex and Cole, since it's not like there'll be any band gigs while you've got Oz elsewhere."

"Oh. Well, I…guess that's okay."

"_NEXT_," barked a sleep-deprived and very irritable woman from behind the counter. She seemed to have been attempting to get their attention for at least half of the conversation. Willow jumped, and she and Oz quickly pulled their suitcases forward.

†

Even though Buffy was still determined to figure out where she and Angel were going before they got there, she failed over and over to get the destination out of him. The departure boards were no help either, nor was the pilot when they boarded the plane, because for all she knew, Heathrow in London would only be a layover.

It was a very long flight. They spent the first two hours of it watching _Van Helsing_. Even though they liked the film, which they'd already seen once, they spent much of the movie irritating the passengers in the rows around them with annoyed comments about the real Dracula. As close together as they could get in their seats, they then slept right through the stop at JFK International and didn't wake up until an hour and a half after they'd left North America behind. Shortly thereafter, Buffy surprised Angel by pulling _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ out of her carry-on.

"I lost count of how many times I've read this since you gave it to me," she said softly. "But I've been waiting until today…." She pressed the book into his hands and looked up at him. "Read it to me?"

Angel smiled and nodded, wrapping his arm around her. They both felt the elegantly scripted "Always" tug at their hearts when he thumbed past the title page, and then he was reading the first sonnet, his lips brushing against her hair and his voice barely above a whisper. Everything outside of their little intimate sphere seemed to fall away, and Buffy got lost in his voice and the lyrical words and the fact that they were really, _finally_, getting their always. It struck her, as it often did, how much each poem seemed to hold part of their story. The resemblance was so uncanny in places that she privately suspected that Elizabeth Barrett Browning must have been a seer or something. When Angel turned the page to start the third-to-last sonnet, Buffy snuggled even closer to him. "This one's my favorite right now," she said.

"Mine too," he agreed. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and read:

"My future will not copy fair my past—  
I wrote that once; and thinking at my side  
My ministering life-angel justified  
The word by his appealing look upcast  
To the white throne of God, I turned at last,  
And there, instead, saw thee, not unallied  
To angels in thy soul! Then I, long tried  
By natural ills, received the comfort fast,  
While budding, at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff  
Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled.  
I seek no copy now of life's first half:  
Leave here the pages with long musing curled,  
And write me new my future's epigraph,  
New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!"

†

Willow was having difficulty communicating her delight via intelligible speech. Mostly, she just squeaked, giggled, and hugged Oz very tightly.

"I take it that Mrs. Osbourne approves," he said, his eyes twinkling. Being referred to as "Mrs. Osbourne" sent Willow into another round of incomprehensible giggles. Oz waited calmly for them to subside, his outer appearance belying his inner jubilation.

"We-we're going to Istanbul? Really?" she asked. Her voice was so high-pitched from excitement that Oz wondered whether he'd have been able to hear it without his werewolf senses.

"Really."

†

At last, when they switched planes at Heathrow, Buffy discovered their destination. "Okay, you get some serious points for sneaky on this one, since it should have been really obvious," she said.

Angel grinned. Galway. As Liam, he had always wanted to get away from the confines of his hometown. That was probably why, as Angelus, he had left the place in bloody ruin and never looked back. When he was cursed with his soul, part of him had longed for the comfort of home, but home was one comfort on a list of many that he had felt he didn't deserve. It was a home he had merrily destroyed, after all, and surely it would not want him back. But now that Angel was human again, it felt right, and it was something he wanted to share with Buffy.

But somehow, he realized as they left the smaller airport in Galway, he hadn't quite anticipated how much the city would have changed over two and a half centuries. Apart from the landscape, part of the street layout, and a scant few buildings (which had been remodeled), Galway was as foreign to Angel as it was to Buffy.

†

"So, anything I should know about your folks before I actually meet them?" asked Xander, feeling nervous. Neither of his previous girlfriends had introduced him to their parents (not that it would have been possible in Anya's case), and being several thousand miles farther from home than he'd ever been hardly took the edge off the stress. He and Renée were in a small suburb of Glasgow, Scotland, walking up the front path of a quaint house with a slightly overgrown garden and chipped paint around the windows and door.

"Oh, you willnae just be meeting my parents," she said cheerfully. "My brothers are all still home for the summer." She reached out to grasp the doorknob and paused thoughtfully. "I suppose I should warn you that they're all a wee bit boisterous. But that shouldnae be too different from the hotel or the academy, right? And dinnae say anything about the slaying. They just think I've been off to university in America."

"Okay," said Xander. She beamed at him, pulled the door open, and dashed inside with all the giddiness of a kid on Christmas morning.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" she called. A plump, rather fierce-looking middle-aged woman who was about half a head shorter than Renée and whose frizzy red hair was escaping from the bun on top of her head appeared in the hall a split-second later.

"There's me little giglet!" she cried, her eyes brimming with tears as she bustled forward and threw her arms around her adopted daughter. "Oh, how we've missed you!"

"I've missed you too," said Renée, hugging her back tightly. "Where's everybody else?"

"In the kitchen. We were just getting to crowdie-time, and then the boys were going to go have a game of shinty. What've you been eating over there? You're getting far too thin! And your hair's gotten longer! But, ooh, who's this you've brought with you?"

"Xander Harris, Mrs. Blackwood," said Xander. Her heavily freckled face lit up with recognition.

"Oh, Renée's told us so much about you! And don't you just look every part the admirable young man she described."

"I'm admirable?" he asked, looking surprised but comically happy. "You told them I'm admirable?"

Renée grinned and was about to reply when her mother spoke again. "What are we doing in the hall? Come on, or the food'll be getting stone cold—or more likely eaten by your brothers," she said. Very eager to fill their stomachs with something other than airline food, Xander and Renée followed her to where the kitchen was located at the back of the house. Halfway there, when they could hear voices and the clattering of cutlery on plates, she turned and said over her shoulder, "Oh, and after breakfast, I'll show you where you can put your bags, Xander. We dinnae have a spare room, so you'll have to kip with Ian and Roy while you're here."

They entered the kitchen, where Logan, Aidan, Craig, Ian, and Roy Blackwood where all eating porridge and toast with marmalade and laughing raucously at something one of them had said. For Xander, it was a bit like walking into a room full of modernly dressed, short-haired Vikings—particularly when their entrance caused all five of the large and burly men to jump up with loud cries of welcome and dash towards Renée, who promptly disappeared in the middle of a group hug. The next thing Xander knew, he was being pounded genially on the back by each of them with such force that he nearly fell over.

†

Though Giles would much rather have checked them all into a hotel and slept off his jet-lag, Connor and Dawn were much too keen to explore London to humor him, so they merely dropped their luggage off at the place they would be staying (where, on Buffy and Angel's orders, Connor and Dawn had separate rooms) and went back out. The first time they caught sight of a Routemaster double-decker bus, Dawn actually shrieked with glee and went sprinting after it. She and Connor reached it while it was still stopped, and even though it was already moving by the time Giles got to it, he grabbed the pole and hoisted himself on board with the ease of many years of practice.

They didn't even go near the British Museum for the entire first day. Instead, they went to the Buckingham Palace. Giles instantly regretted this, as they had no sooner arrived than Connor and Dawn began attempting to get one of the guards to crack. They used a variety of inventive methods that included pulling ridiculous faces and (to Giles's horror) making out as loudly and obnoxiously as they could in front of him, but his face remained sternly impassive the entire time. Giles offered the man an apologetic and exasperated glance before shooing the insufferable pair away.

Things did not get any more dignified over the course of the afternoon, as Connor and Dawn had taken to reenacting the "Ministry of Silly Walks" sketch every time they had to travel from one attraction to the next on foot. Though Giles frequently winced when passers-by caught sight of these antics, once, when he thought nobody was looking, his gait became remarkably similar to La Marche Futile…

†

It took a few days for Angel to get his bearings in modern Galway—his progress in that area not exactly helped by the fact that he and Buffy had rather better things to be doing on their honeymoon—but he did eventually find what he was looking for, feeling both relieved that it still existed and somber about what he knew was buried there.

"I thought our graveyard date phase was behind us," Buffy said lightly as Angel led her carefully past a few crumbling old Celtic cross grave markers towards a cluster of much older headstones that had eroded almost down to their bases.

"Not quite," he said.

"Well, it's got a way better view than any of the Sunnydale ones, that's for sure," said Buffy, looking past the graves to where the grassy hills swept down to a rocky beach, and then out across Galway Bay to the barely visible northern coast of the Burren. Angel smiled knowingly. It truly was a breathtaking sight, and he paused a moment to appreciate it before moving very slowly on through the oldest graves in the cemetery. A moment later, he stopped.

Buffy moved over to join him and saw that he was standing in front of three especially crumbled and weather-beaten headstones that were slightly removed from the rest and almost completely covered in dark green moss. She watched him bend down and silently begin tugging the offending growth away from the old stone. He kept going until all of the moss was gone, even though nothing remained of the original lettering on the headstones beneath.

"Your family," said Buffy quietly as Angel was clearing the last of it away.

"It's been a long time since my last visit." He stood up, and Buffy saw that his expression had darkened. "The people who buried them had driven crosses into the ground all around the graves and piled about half a crop's worth of garlic on top because they thought they'd rise again. I couldn't get any closer than the Lynch plot. Thankfully." Buffy gently touched his hand, which slowly uncurled from the fist it had formed, then closed again around her fingers. It was her turn to do this for him.

"You saw the sketches I did of each of them. You asked why my father looks so stern and disappointed in his, and why my mother looks sad in hers. Those were expressions I remember best from them. They were ashamed of me, and I taunted them with that before I killed them."

"We didn't just come halfway around the world so you could brood some more, did we?"

"No," he said, chuckling.

"To say goodbye?"

"No. To start over." His grip on her hand grew stronger, and she smiled.

†

There was so much to see in Istanbul. Which was why Willow thought they should actually see some of it before they left. Oz reentered the hotel room pushing a breakfast cart and bearing a sheaf of tourist brochures. "So…Hagia Sophia, obelisk, or aqueducts?" he asked, holding up three of the brochures and splaying them out like a hand of cards.

"Hagia Sophia, please. But, breakfast first."

"Good plan."

Over a breakfast of su böregi, lentil soup, and orange juice, they planned out their day of sight-seeing. It was lucky that Oz was there to be the cool, schedule-oriented one, because Willow still hadn't quite gotten over the fact that she was in the only city in the world that was on two continents. _And_ it had been the capital of four empires. Of all foreign locations, Istanbul was the one she'd wanted to visit most since the age of five, so she was somewhat prone to overexcitability.

Oz, who had reached the point at which his emotions could not be barred from showing on his face during the wedding ceremony, had since gone past it so far that expressions couldn't do justice to the joy he felt, so it was easiest to act as detached as he usually did.

†

Dawn grabbed Connor by the arm and pulled sideways so that the degree to which he was absorbed in his notes wouldn't cause him to walk into a pillar on the way out of the Museum.

"What?" he said distractedly. "Oh, thanks."

"Get everything you needed?"

"Yeah," he said smugly, flipping through all the pages of notes he'd taken that morning. "In spades."

"Excellent," said Giles.

"Why excellent?" asked Dawn.

"I'm not only here to babysit the two of you, you know."

"You're not?" they asked together, surprised.

"No," said Giles indignantly. "It just so happens that I've got a bit of Council business to attend to as well. I've found multiple references in the Watcher Diaries to a sort of, erm, archive on paranormal history, magics, dimensions, and so forth. In my years with the original Council prior to being assigned as Buffy's Watcher, I spent a great deal of time in the Council headquarters here in London, and the library there, though extensive, didn't quite match these descriptions. I thought we might go poking about the site of the building—they've built over it by now, surely, but there might still be something that points to this, er, archive." He looked at their unenthusiastic expressions and added, "Not to mention that a certain Slayer and former principal with whom we are acquainted are currently living in town and merit a visit."

"Faith and Wood?" asked Dawn, perking up. "They're here? I thought they'd be in, like, the Ukraine by now. They're really here?"

"Apparently, yes."

"Faith…," said Connor, his brow furrowed as he sifted through two sets of memories to where that name was familiar, "the Slayer Wesley busted out of prison to help when my father lost his soul?"

"You met Faith?" said Dawn, surprised.

"Yeah. Got to know her fists pretty well, too. Kinda got on her bad side."

Dawn snickered. "Not a fun place to be. But, at least she doesn't remember that anymore, right? And she's mostly only good side now."

"Yes, well, while you two were, erm, frolicking about on the London Bridge yesterday, I gave them a ring, and they've invited us to their apartment for lunch today. Well, for takeout, at any rate."

Twenty minutes later, they were at the buzzer to Faith and Wood's apartment complex, then almost ran into the takeout delivery guy on the way up.

"It's open!" came Wood's voice through the door, and they entered. It was a nice apartment containing very few objects that didn't serve a functional purpose. Rather than creating a barren sort of environment, the lack of decoration lent the space a bright, simple openness that felt very pleasant and welcoming—which probably had something to do with its very large windows. Wood greeted them just across the threshold, and shook hands with Giles and Dawn. "It's great to see you again, Rupert, Dawn, and…," he turned to Connor with a questioning look.

"Connor Reilly," he supplied, and they shook hands. To Connor's relief, Wood didn't seem to require anything else by way of an introduction, which saved him the trouble of trying to summarize his complicated pasts in the amount of time it took to complete a handshake.

"Americans! Thank God." Faith had joined them in the living room. "No offense, Giles, I think the Queen's English is great and all, but it's nice to hear the native tongue for a change." Wood chuckled, but none of the newcomers replied. They were all distracted by the slight rounded bulge of her stomach beneath her dark tank top. Noticing where they were all looking, she coughed loudly, which brought their eyes back to her face. "Uh, yeah, looks like Robin and I got kinda carried away with the celebrating after the battle against the First's zombies. Didn't figure it out until a gang of vamps put me in the hospital with a few broken ribs—but not before I sent them to dustville." She smirked in satisfaction.

"Congratulations!" said Dawn, grinning broadly.

"When are you due?" asked Giles.

"December," she said.

"Oh," said Dawn, her eyes widening, "is that why you're in London instead of questing all across the continent?"

"Yeah…looks like we get to take a hiatus from that," said Faith, who was apparently slightly annoyed by this. They moved over to sit around the coffee table, and Wood passed everyone a takeout carton. Starving from their morning explorations, Connor and Dawn immediately dug in.

"We're still conducting the search, but the girls we found first and trained the longest are the ones actually doing the searching at the moment," said Wood. "New Slayers have been easier to find since Willow put up that website." Giles's face twitched almost imperceptibly at this, but he chose not to comment. Wood turned to Dawn. "And how've you been doing in school, Dawn?" Dawn struggled to swallow the large amount of chow mein she had just put in her mouth so she could answer. "Sorry—principal mode is a little hard to turn off completely."

"Tell me about it," said Faith. "He's been helping me study to get my GED."

"That's wonderful!" said Giles.

"Yeah, and a pain. According to the fake ID Angel and Wes gave me, I'm a high school graduate, so I don't really see the point."

"It's only because I love you," said Wood, wrapping an arm around her and grinning.

"That'd better be what it is, 'cause otherwise you'll be getting that number two pencil up your—"

Wood coughed loudly, but looked more amused than alarmed.

†

Willow and Oz's day of touring, which had included visits to the Hagia Sophia, the Galata Tower, and the ancient aqueducts, was drawing to a close. They walked towards the Obelisk of Theodosius, looking up with keen interest at the Egyptian symbols carved into the sides. But the closer they got, the more Willow felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

"What's up?" asked Oz.

"I'm not sure," said Willow, frowning. "Weird vibes or something." Curious, but very apprehensive, she kept moving towards it, Oz at her side. By the time they reached the elaborate fence barrier at the base, her senses were nearly overwhelmed. She could barely hear the everyday sounds of their surroundings for the strange, low-pitched siren that vibrated through her whole body, her mouth and nose were filled with an unpleasant, bitter tang, and her skin prickled at the presence of the unknown energy.

"Don't you feel that?" she asked.

"Feel what?"

"I don't know. I can't tell if it's coming from the Obelisk or the ground it's on." She backed several steps away, until the pull on her senses was more tolerable. "Whatever it is, I don't think it's good."

"Magic?" Oz hadn't detected anything whatsoever from the ancient monument, so that seemed like the logical answer.

"Maybe. Not like any magic I've ever experienced, if that's what it is."

†

Buffy's eyes flew open. Her heart was racing, and a cold sweat had broken out across her face and neck. It took her a few seconds to realize that she'd been asleep, and that the warm bulk partially wrapped around her was Angel. She'd been having a dream about…about…what? It had been so vivid, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn't remember it. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt like it was full of cotton balls.

Carefully, she scooted out of Angel's unconscious embrace and off the bed. After groping blindly for a few seconds, she located her discarded dressing gown lying on the floor and pulled it on, then felt her way towards the desk, where she knew she'd left her water bottle. She clicked the small desk light on and, while she gulped down the remaining contents of the water bottle, noticed that Angel's sketchbook was still sitting open to the page with the sketch of his father. Her fingers hovered over the lines that formed the eyes, the nose, the mouth. She thought back to what Angel had said when they visited the graveyard, and she looked from his peacefully sleeping form to the sketch and back again before making up her mind.

A few minutes after she had dressed and departed, Angel stirred and noticed the distinct lack of Buffy, who was neither in the bed next to him nor anywhere else in the room. Seeing that the desk lamp was lit, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked over to the desk, where he found the open sketchbook.

†

Buffy walked slowly through the old cemetery until she arrived once more at the remnants of the three grave markers. She bent down and placed white roses at the middle and left ones, before turning to the one on the right. "Hey," she said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful stillness of the place. "Thought I'd get some quality time with my father-in-law." She paused for a moment, becoming much more serious.

"Angel told me about you. Showed me a drawing. He said you were ashamed of him. That you saw him as a disappointment. And that you were right to. So I just wanted to tell you that you can be proud of him now. He's the best man I've ever known. Kind, selfless, honest—a whole lot of people owe him their lives, myself included. I've seen him with his son and know I couldn't ask for a better father for my future children. I love him with all of my heart, and I thank God every day that I have him in my life, and that after everything we've been through, I'll finally get to spend the rest of it with him." She gently laid the third rose down before the headstone, her eyes sparkling with emotion, and her lips stretched in a slight smile. She shook herself a little, and returned to the lighter attitude she had started with, her smile becoming a smirk. "And you don't have to worry. I'll take good care of him."

"I'd be more worried about taking care of myself if I were you," said a voice from behind her. She jumped and whirled around. Four vampires were standing there, eyeing her predatorily.

"Oh, I can do that too," she replied. She may not have been able to bring the Scythe across the pond with her, but she did have Mr. Pointy.

"We were counting on that, Slayer," said a tall, blond vampire who was probably the leader.

†

Rather late at night, once she and Oz were back at the hotel, Willow immediately pulled out her laptop and made a virtual B line to the Council forum. There, after posting what had happened at the Obelisk in the "Investigate Further" category, she was distracted by what was going on in the chat box on the side of the screen.

ViolentViolets42: Exaggeration, much?

Chosen1_395: u never fought NEthing that bad, lol, n00b.

WatcherDalton007: You lie, Padawan. And I believe it is you who is the n00b here.

ViolentViolets42: Yeah, guess again, rookie. I was in both battles against the First, I've been patrolling five out of seven nights a week for a year and a half, _and_ I'm in charge of the academy in Cleveland.

Chosen1_395: ya rite. ur making that up cuz its a chatroom.

WatcherDalton007: Respect the XP! We've been doing this longer than you. In fact, I was even born and raised in Sunnydale!

[PEZ_witch has signed on]

Chosen1_395: watevr

PEZ_witch: This is a chat room where you can only discuss legitimate slaying/Council stuff. And not in chatspeak.

ViolentViolets42: That's what I've been trying to tell her! (Also, hi, Willow! ^_^)

PEZ_witch: Hey, Vi. How's Canada, Andrew?

WatcherDalton007: It would probably be much better if I'd known beforehand that people speak French here.

PEZ_witch: That's mostly only in Quebec. And haven't you found a French Canadian Slayer to help you out with that?

WatcherDalton007: Well, yeah, but whenever I try to get her to translate something I'm saying, she just laughs at me!

ViolentViolets42: Gee, I wonder why she'd do that.

Chosen1_395: no way, ur not willow. u cant boss me arond.

WatcherDalton007: Silence, imbecile! (…That was French, btw.)

ViolentViolets42: She's the reason you're even a Slayer, you disrespectful, illiterate moron!

Oz moved over to join Willow at her computer and noticed her heavy scowl. With a small smirk, he leaned closer and began to trail kisses upward from the base of her neck. Gasping in surprise and her eyelids fluttering closed, Willow's fingers stopped typing her annoyed reply. She turned her head and captured his lips with hers, her arms moving to wrap around him. She didn't even notice when his hands glanced briefly over the keyboard before twining through her hair.

PEZ_witch: Sorry, busy now.

[PEZ_witch has signed off]

†

"Told ye we'd find another one if we looked outside of England. How much d'ye think this one'll fetch us?" said a vampire whose hair was dyed an obnoxious shade of orange. They were slowly spreading out, obviously intending to surround Buffy.

"Five thousand quid, easy," said the short one who had spoken first.

"Yeah, but only if they don't notice she's already been marked. Don't reckon they'll be generous about used goods," said the fourth in a deep growling voice, his yellow eyes fixed on the silvery scar at the base of her neck.

"Means she'll last a while, though, if she's survived it before. Could boost the commission, if anything."

"Okay, there's obviously been a misunderstanding," said Buffy, who was very annoyed that they'd interrupted her private moment with Angel's family's graves. "'She' is standing _right here_ and also is not for sale."

The first vampire lunged forward, but, as Buffy had only been pretending not to notice him sneaking around behind her, this only served to put him in range of her fist, which connected solidly with his nose. Spinning quickly, she grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked downward while bringing her knee up harshly to ram into his gut.

She was about to deliver the coup de grâce with Mr. Pointy when the orange-haired one and the blond caught hold of her arms and held her trapped in their grips. She kicked out fiercely, catching the first one, who was struggling to his feet, under the chin. His head whipped back unnaturally far, and he toppled over again, but she still couldn't get free of the other two. They wheeled her around to face the fourth, who was pulling out what appeared to be a syringe.

Before he could come so much as two steps closer, however, he let out a roar of pain and went rigid, dropping the needle and exploding into dust.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" asked Angel.

"Nope. Brownie points for dramatic timing, though," grunted Buffy as she rammed her shoulder into the chest of the blond vampire on her right, successfully throwing him off-balance enough that his grip loosened. She tore her arm free and drove Mr. Pointy through the heart of the orange-haired one, then quickly dispatched the blond as well. Rotating Mr. Pointy in her right hand, she turned to glare at the first vampire, who was still curled on the ground. Her kick seemed to have broken his neck. With her free hand, she seized him by the throat and pulled him up roughly, so that his feet dangled an inch or two off the ground. He let out a strangled cry of agony, which Buffy ignored.

"You really could have thought this through better, you know," she said pleasantly. "But since you didn't, this is the part where you get to answer my questions."

"Like 'what's in this?' for one," suggested Angel, holding up the syringe. The vampire didn't reply, and Buffy slammed her knee into his stomach again. He groaned loudly.

"It's a sedative," he said hoarsely. "We were supposed to get you unconscious and undamaged to London."

"What's in London?" asked Buffy, her eyes narrowing. The vampire began to laugh maniacally. Apparently he hadn't been paralyzed when she broke his neck, because he suddenly grabbed Mr. Pointy from her and plunged it into his own chest.

"Now doesn't that just bode all kinds of ill," said Angel. He and Buffy exchanged an unnerved glance.

"I guess the honeymoon's over," Buffy quipped unhappily as she retrieved Mr. Pointy from the pile of ashes at her feet.

"Time to get back to work," Angel concurred with equal grimness.

* * *

So, yeah, this one was pretty much heaping portions of silly multicultural fun (which took FOREVER to research, since the only time I've ever been outside the continental US was before I could walk, and that wasn't even a trip to Europe anyway), hardcore shipper stuff, and just a dash of foreshadowing. I realize that there were only three episodes between Willow and Oz's engagement and their wedding and only one between Buffy and Angel's, but what I've got planned for the rest of the season is on a fairly rigid timeline, and honeymoons were the only way I could get everyone where they needed to be. Also, it's not like it was hasty of them to get married after two to four months of being engaged, since their relationships started in the first two seasons. My thinking is that they already know they want to spend the rest of their lives together, and waiting tends to invite trouble, so why wait? So, apart from the fairly monumental Buffy/Angel and Willow/Oz weddings (and the fact that they actually successfully happened), we've got the reveal that Faith is pregnant, something sinister is going on in London, and there's something very not right with a certain ancient tourist attraction in Istanbul. Also, I do plan to have more scenes with Xander at Renée's house. I just thought that too much of that at the same time as the Buffy/Angel, Willow/Oz, and Giles, Dawn, and Connor stuff would have fragmented the episode (which was already fragmented) too much. Oh, and once again with the _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ stuff. But seriously, if you read those poems closely enough, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM can be interpreted as a metaphor (and very thinly veiled at times) for a Buffy/Angel scene. In fact, the idea caught hold of me so tightly that I went Photoshop-crazy and made desktops for all forty-four sonnets, with pictures from those scenes. I have posted these on my deviantart page, which is where the homepage link goes to on my profile, if you want to see them.


	7. 9x07: The Lost Archive

Episode 7: The Lost Archive

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Morena Baccarin (Inara from _Firefly_) as Sophia

and

Alan Tudyk (Wash from _Firefly_) as Demetri

†

It was three in the morning, and Xander was staring stiffly up at the ceiling from his narrow cot on the floor. The other two occupants of the room, Ian and Roy, were snoring so loudly that it was as if someone was revving a motorcycle right next to him, and it was impossible for him to sleep. Every night so far that he'd stayed with Renée's family, he'd managed to fall asleep before them, but tonight he was less fortunate, and he'd spent the past two hours regretting it—particularly as the bulk of his day had been taken up playing a three-a-side version of a game similar to field hockey with Renée and her brothers in the back garden.

A dim sliver of light bisected the room, and he looked over to see Renée standing in the hall, clad in a tank top, tartan pajama pants, and socks. She opened the door a little wider and beckoned to him, a worried look on her face. Grateful for an opportunity to escape the endless thunderstorm of snores, Xander tossed his covers aside and got up. Renée led him past the room shared by her other brothers, Aidan and Craig, right to the end of the hall and into her bedroom, where she closed the door behind them.

Xander waited in the pitch darkness of the room while she easily navigated the familiar space and turned on the desk lamp. The yellowish light illuminated a comfortably untidy room with a strong blue and brown color scheme. An aged wardrobe, a cluttered drawing desk, a bookcase bursting with science fiction and fantasy novels, and a double bed were the only pieces of furniture in it. Comic books peeked out from several unexpected places, a large display case containing models of the Starship_ Enterprise_, the_ Millennium Falcon_, and _Serenity_ hung from one wall, and smaller ones full of action figures hung from the other three. In fact, if it hadn't been for the many stuffed animals on the bed, it could easily have been mistaken for a boy's room.

"What's up?" asked Xander when Renée turned back to face him.

"I had the dream again," she said.

"The one from last night?"

"Aye." She sat on the edge of her bed and put her head in her hands.

"This really has you worried, doesn't it?"

"It's the first time I've had one of these dreams that hasnae been about a past Slayer, and I dinnae even ken what it means."

"Do you remember it?"

"I do, but what good are a bunch of strobe-lighting pictures that I cannae even get a proper glimpse of?"

"Maybe Giles'll have some guesses for us when we meet up with him tomorrow."

"Good, because I've a very bad feeling about this."

"Which episode bad?" he asked, sitting down next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Episode IV, when they see the Death Star," she said dully, rubbing her temples.

Xander gave a low whistle. That was bad. "Yeah. We'll talk to Giles." He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware that he was in his girlfriend's bedroom in the middle of the night even though kissing was the farthest they had gone so far. "Is that the only thing you were worried about?"

"For now," she said.

"Okay." He made to get up to leave the room, but Renée caught his hand and held him back. "You willnae sleep a wink with those two. Stay."

"You sure?" he asked with a small smile of disbelief.

"Well, I might have another dream," she said innocently. "I'd have to come and tell you about it anyway." Xander smirked. Renée kissed him, then moved some of the stuffed animals to make room and hopped down to turn off the desk lamp. A couple of minutes later, they were snuggled together beneath the covers and rapidly drifting off again.

†

Lunch the previous day had ended with Faith insisting that Giles, Dawn, and Connor come back soon—especially if there was something mystical they needed help with, because she hadn't even been off active slaying duty for a month and was already going stir crazy. A series of incomprehensible but very foreboding dreams were not making things any better. She didn't care if she was five months pregnant; she needed in on some of the action. And yet, helping Giles and his two young accomplices with research, which was what she and Robin found themselves doing that morning, was not what she'd had in mind.

"Ooh, here's something," said Dawn, leaning closer to the Watcher diary she was reading. "It's an entry from the early eighteen hundreds. Something took ten guys two weeks researching in the Great Archive to figure out."

"Anything else?" asked Giles hopefully.

"No," said Dawn in disappointment.

"So you think this archive might still exist?" asked Wood.

"I don't know," said Giles. "I am, however, certain that it wasn't in the part of the building that was destroyed. But even if it still exists, it seems that it was lost from common Watcher knowledge long before I joined their ranks."

"This place is like a library, right?" said Faith. "How do you _lose_ a library? Especially one as big as this one sounds?"

"Carelessness," suggested Connor in a halfhearted attempt at humor. "Too bad we can't ask these guys where the last place they saw it was."

Dawn rolled her eyes. Faith looked at Robin, who was frowning at the page of the diary he was reading. "What is it?"

"Another entry. This one's from eighteen forty-nine. I think it might explain why you hadn't heard of this 'Great Archive' until a couple of weeks ago." He handed the book to Giles, who read the passage aloud.

"'I spent the better part of my wage traveling to London to make use of the Great Archive, but now they've got it roped off and they won't give me a reason why. Apparently, it's a situation that requires the attention of the Slayer. Now all I have to do is wait until she arrives from India. This is absurd! I haven't got time to deal with their paranoia. I shall go down there at once, whether they want me to or not.'" Giles looked up, raising his eyebrows. "That was the man's last entry."

He bent down to move a few of the other Diaries aside on the coffee table until he found one that was written at the same time as the one Wood had handed him. "Let's see how the Slayer fared against this unknown horror, shall we?" The other four watched as Giles's expression became progressively graver.

"What happened?" asked Dawn apprehensively.

"Shakti, the Slayer of the day, went down into the Archive, but she never came out. After that, they sealed it shut so nobody else could meet their deaths within. And so the the thing inside couldn't get out."

"Then let's go to the old Council building to check it out," said Faith at once.

"What?" said Giles, surprised.

"Well, you said she went 'down' to get to the Archives, so that probably means the way to it is somewhere in the basement."

"That might be true, except that the Council only used the top two floors of that building, both of which, incidentally, Caleb blew up a year and a half ago."

"Did they always only use the top two floors?" asked Connor.

Giles frowned. "Erm, no, actually. The lower levels used to be the Watchers' Academy, but they outgrew the space quite a few decades ago, and moved to the South Hampshire locations."

"If Caleb only blew up the top two floors, maybe the original basement is still there," said Dawn. "We should go look."

"It's not quite that straightforward," said Giles. "First of all, the building is now owned by the government, so we very likely won't be allowed in. Secondly, the thing that killed Shakti and caused those Watchers to permanently seal up such a valuable resource may well still be there. But this is only assuming that the archive still exists, which it might not."

"But danger and uncertainty are what makes it fun," said Faith. This was turning out to be her kind of day after all.

†

Willow glared at the screen of her laptop. It had been hours, and nobody had replied to the thread she had opened about the Obelisk. And, of course, it wasn't as if Giles would ever go online to provide his input. Well, she'd just have to call him, then. She dug in her bag until she found the little piece of paper bearing the number at which she could contact him, then dialed from the hotel phone. It rang five times with no answer. Willow groaned in frustration.

At that point, Oz entered the room with breakfast. "Any luck?" he asked.

"No," she pouted. "Nobody's replied to my thread and Giles won't answer the phone."

"You could try Buffy and Angel," he suggested with a small smirk. "I doubt they'd be out of their hotel room."

"Good point," she said, reaching for the phone again. Then she realized what he'd meant and withdrew her hand, looking mortified. "Oz! I can't just call them like that! They're on their honeymoon too!" He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "But this could be a big important thing that can't wait," she went on. She picked up the phone determinedly, and Oz's smirk broadened. "If I interrupt something and they get mad, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"Fair enough," he said.

†

After their encounter with the vampires at the old cemetery, Buffy and Angel had returned to their hotel room and gone back to sleep, only for Buffy to be woken shortly after daybreak by a repeat of the same dream she'd had before.

"What was it?" asked Angel.

"Just a flash of images," she said. "I don't even know what they are. It's like I'm only getting fragments."

"You mean like the visions Cordy used to get?"

"What were those like?"

"She described them as 'bone-crunching, mind-splitting vision headaches'. She'd see flashes of people we were supposed to help."

"Well, unless you've been slipping me some serious morphine without telling me, there's no pain up here," she said, tapping her head. "I'm pretty sure it was just one of those Slayer dreams."

"Did it have anything to do with the vampires from the graveyard?"

"No. But whatever it is, it's something bad."

"Think it's prophetic?"

"Maybe. It'd be nice if it wasn't so vague, though." Her troubled musings were interrupted by the phone ringing. Angel reached out to grab the handset from his nightstand.

"Hello?" he said. "Hey, Willow." Buffy sat up a little straighter on the bed. "No, you're okay, we're not—we were just talking." He chuckled. "Yeah, here she is." He passed Buffy the phone.

"Hi, Wil," she said. "How's Istanbul?"

"It's so great," said Willow, momentarily forgetting her reason for calling. "But, hey, how'd you know that Oz and I are in Istanbul?"

"Oz told Angel a while ago, and he told me," she replied, then hastily added, "but not until after you were already there."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense. Oz told me that you and Angel went to Galway. How's that?"

"Oh, Willow, it's the most gorgeous place I've ever been to," she said, sighing and looking at Angel, who flashed her a brilliant smile and stole a quick kiss.

On the other end, Willow giggled, before remembering what the purpose of the call was supposed to be. "Anyway," she went on in a more businesslike tone, "I tried to call Giles, but he must be off with Dawn and Connor somewhere, so I called you instead."

"Why," asked Buffy, "what's up?"

"Yesterday, Oz and I were exploring the city, and our last stop was the Obelisk of Theodosius. I don't know why, but I was getting some majorly creepy vibes off of that thing."

"What, like magic?"

"That's what I thought. It's definitely not of the good."

"You've got some of that too, huh?"

"What do you mean? Is something up on your end?"

"It's this dream I've been having. I had it twice last night, but I have no idea what it means, and I think that's something I need to find out as soon as possible."

Willow's eyes widened, and she hastily re-opened the Council forum page. "I think one of the new topics on the forum is about dreams," she said. "Yeah, here it is!" She clicked on it.

"Really?" asked Buffy. "So I'm not the only one having this dream?"

"No, it looks like at least thirty-seven other Slayers are having it too so far."

Buffy sat there in silence for a few seconds. This was looking more ominous all the time. "Does anyone know what it means?"

"Doesn't look like it," said Willow, skimming quickly through the many thread posts. "Oh! I know! We could visit the Coven!"

"In England? Can they help?"

"Yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "They're probably my best bet for figuring out the deal with the Obelisk, and I know Cassandra can interpret dreams."

"Good, because we're heading back to London today anyway."

"Oh, okay. I guess we'll meet you at the airport."

"Yeah. See you."

"Bye." Buffy reached across Angel to put the phone back in its cradle.

"So, London?" he said.

"Just to meet Willow and Oz. Then we're going to see the Coven," she said.

"What about the vamps that attacked you last night?"

Buffy gasped. "Oh, crap. I forgot about them." She was torn. She felt like she shouldn't waste any time figuring out what the dream meant, but whatever those vampires had been up to was seriously bad news too.

"Don't worry about it," said Angel. "You and Willow can go to the Coven, and Oz and I can see if we can't find out what's going on in London."

"Are you sure?" she asked gratefully.

"I'm sure," he said, pulling her close and kissing her again.

"Mmm…how much longer until we have to head to the airport?"

"A few hours."

"Good."

†

Xander was forcibly brought back to consciousness when two large, freckled hands seized him by the front of his undershirt, yanked him out of bed, and slammed him up against the wall. The side of his head missed one of the display cases by inches.

"What the hell are you doing in my sister's bed?" Ian bellowed, his face an inch away from Xander's.

Up until five seconds ago, Xander'd been having his best night's sleep in over a year. "Uh, sleeping?" he said weakly. For some reason, one angry Scottish man was just as intimidating as any demon he had ever faced. And if he didn't get him to stop shouting within the next ten seconds, he'd most likely be dealing with _five_ angry Scottish men and one angry Scottish woman, who was scarier than her husband and sons combined.

Fortunately, Renée, who'd been woken up by the yelling and the abrupt removal of Xander's arms from around her, chose that moment to come to his aid. An iguana plushie struck Ian hard on the ear, and he turned to see his sister, who usually came up to about his shoulder, towering over him from where she stood on the bed. "Ian!" she said harshly. "Back off! I had a nightmare, I told Xander about it, and we fell asleep. Besides, it isnae like he was going to be able to get any sleep in there with you and Roy sawing Giant Sequoias all night!"

Ian let go of Xander as he and Renée began to shout at each other in Gaelic, the former getting progressively redder in the face while the latter pelted him with stuffed animals until he finally stormed out of the room.

"So," said Xander faintly, "is that my cue to escape through the window, or will I be safe until we head for London this afternoon?"

"Oh, no," said Renée, waving a hand dismissively. "He'll have forgotten about it by the time we go in for breakfast. You'd only really have needed to worry if it had been Dad."

"Your family is insane in a much cooler way than my family," said Xander, shaking his head.

"When do I get to meet them?" asked Renée eagerly.

"If you're lucky, never," said Xander, scowling. His family was nothing more than a dysfunctional pack of insensitive jerks who didn't even like each other. But even though the Blackwoods were only Renée's adoptive family, they were as closely-knit as any actual blood-relatives he'd ever seen, crazy or not. After the first couple of days watching them interact, he couldn't even see the differences between Renée and the rest of them anymore. "Do you know who your real parents were?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Renée gave him an odd look and sat next to him.

"I know their names and that they didn't have any other family," she said, shrugging. "I know that my father was killed in a car accident before I was born, and my mother died having me. That was the same day Mum had Craig. They were in the next room at the hospital."

"You were lucky to end up with them," said Xander, taking one of her hands in his.

Renée smiled. "I know."

†

"So, this is the old Council headquarters building?" asked Faith.

"It was," said Giles, squinting up at the large structure, "before it was rebuilt and repossessed by the city of London for use as a government office building." It looked very similar to the original design, but lacked, for obvious reasons, the two centuries' worth of weather damage that had been very apparent on the exterior of the first building.

"Let's check it out," said Dawn. She and Connor promptly ascended the front steps, Faith close behind them, with Wood and Giles following at a slightly more hesitant pace.

Fortunately for them, it seemed that the receptionist at the front desk had gone to lunch without bothering to have someone cover her station, so they reached the stairwell unhindered. This was quite a relief, because none of them would have known how to begin explaining the large bag of weapons that was slung over Wood's shoulder, had they been confronted. The basement was full of dust, construction equipment, crates, and rusty old filing cabinets, but it definitely didn't look as new as the rest of the building.

"Score," said Faith.

"Be careful," said Giles.

"What are we supposed to find in here?" asked Dawn.

"Hopefully some kind of sealed door, like that diary mentioned," said Wood.

They made their way carefully around the mess of materials and spent the next thirty minutes scouring the basement. At one point, they got very excited when they found a supply closet, but it turned out to just be that: a supply closet. For Dawn, the thrill of sneaking into a British government building and creeping around in the basement had long since worn off, and she was on the verge of suggesting that they give up when she noticed that Connor wasn't standing next to her anymore. She looked around.

"Where'd Connor go?" she asked. Giles, Faith, and Wood all turned to look at her.

"He was right next to you, wasn't he?" asked Giles.

"Up until about five seconds ago." She turned around and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Connor!" she called loudly.

"Whoa, you wanna keep it down?" asked Faith.

"Yeah, we're not supposed to be in here, remember?" said Wood.

"Oh, sorry," said Dawn sheepishly. A couple of seconds later, Connor all but materialized at her shoulder, an enormous smile on his face. "Where'd you go?" she asked reproachfully.

"I think I found what we're looking for," he said in triumph.

†

The customers of Millie's Cookies at the third terminal of Heathrow all jumped slightly when two loud shrieks of glee cut the coffee-and-pastry scented air. Buffy and Willow, having spotted one another across the shop, met in the middle and hugged very tightly. Angel and Oz caught up with them a moment later and inclined their heads at each other in greeting.

"So, how's married life treating you?" asked Buffy, grinning.

"It definitely has its advantages," said Oz, while Willow beamed. "And you?"

"It's great. Turns out happiness is really addictive," said Angel.

"Nice how that's not against the rules anymore, isn't it?" said Buffy, looping an arm through one of his and kissing him on the cheek.

Unwilling to spoil the light mood right away, the four of them ate an unhurried lunch at the little café before setting off. As Buffy wasn't nearly confident enough in her driving abilities to test them out in a country where people used roundabouts and drove on the left side of the road, and as Willow wanted to be able to look at all of the buildings instead of concentrating on traffic, they caught a cab that would take them to Westbury instead of renting a car, leaving Angel and Oz at the airport.

"Hey, as long as we're patrolling in London, we might want to keep an eye out for the TARDIS," Oz joked without inflection.

"The what?" asked Angel, who had been looking in a different direction than Oz and was distracted by an empty bit of sidewalk that he'd been sure had housed an old-fashioned blue police box a second before.

"Never mind," said Oz. "So, we're looking for vampires?"

"Yeah. Some kind of underground trade that involves Slayers."

"Then I vote we try the Underground," said Oz.

Angel nodded.

†

"Are you quite sure you have to go, dear?" asked Mrs. Blackwood fretfully, pulling Renée into a tight hug outside the Glasgow airport.

"The new term is starting soon, Mum. You know that," she said. It felt weird to say she was going to school when she was really going to help protect the world. Should she feel guilty for that kind of lie? It was all a very confusing business.

"Come, Kirstin, you cannae do this every time one of them goes to university," said Mr. Blackwood, his smile partially hidden behind his copper-colored beard.

"Oh, yes I can, Logan," she countered.

Mr. Blackwood left his wife and daughter to their emotional farewell and turned to Xander. "I feel better about letting her go, knowing you'll be with her," he said gruffly. "She trusts you, so I trust you. Dinnae make me regret that, Harris."

"I won't, Mr. Blackwood," said Xander. They shook hands before Mr. Blackwood turned to hug Renée, who had finally been released by Mrs. Blackwood.

"Take care of my little girl, won't you?" she said tearfully, pulling Xander into an uncomfortably tight embrace.

"I will," he promised. A few minutes later, he and Renée went inside, Renée looking back over her shoulder at them until they were blocked from view.

†

"Um. I just see wall," said Dawn. Everyone else sported similar looks of confusion as they looked at the bare patch of wall Connor had led them to.

"So do I," said Connor, "but that's not the point."

"And the point would be what, exactly?" asked Faith impatiently.

"This." He rapped the wall sharply with his knuckles. The resultant sound was not what one would expect to hear from a solid cement wall. It sounded much more like… "Plaster," said Connor. "Thin, too. Looks like it was put up a few coats of paint ago."

"Well then," said Giles, "shall we see what's inside?" All four of them stared at him. "What? Vandalism is quite a reasonable price to pay if that really does lead to the Council's Lost Archive."

"Everybody stay back!" cried Dawn melodramatically, "Giles's inner rebel has merged with his inner librarian!" Wood raised his eyebrows, Faith grinned wickedly at Giles, and Connor snorted.

Giles shot Dawn a withering glare. "Oh, do stop being childish," he said irritably. "Now, Connor, seeing as you're the one who found it, would you care to do the honors, or would you prefer to watch the rebellious librarian," he glared at Dawn again, "do it himself?"

Connor shrugged. "Crowbar?" Wood pulled one from the bag and passed it to him.

"And, behind artificial wall number one," said Faith as Connor swung the crowbar into the plaster. The impact left a jagged, basketball-sized hole in its surface, behind which they could see wooden planks and iron bands.

"Jackpot," said Connor. Giles looked as if he couldn't decide whether to pass out or cry from happiness. Connor dropped the crowbar and began to slam the heel of his hand repeatedly into the wall. Bits of plaster rained down around his feet, and within two or three minutes, he had completely uncovered a sturdy-looking door. Connor grabbed the large, ornate handle and pulled. The door creaked, but wouldn't open.

"Typical," said Dawn.

"Good thing I'm not," said Connor, this time plying the door with his full and considerable strength. There was a loud grinding snap as the thick metal tongue holding it in place broke, and it swung open with an almighty groaning creak. They all felt excitement course through their bodies when a gust of stale air blew past them. Wood wordlessly passed each of them crossbows with flashlights strapped to them and took Faith's hand. Giles clicked on his flashlight and led the way inside.

Beyond the door was a long stone tunnel that sloped gently downward as it curved to the right. After about a hundred steps, it ended in another door identical to the first. This time, Connor couldn't get it to budge. Faith obligingly lent a hand, giving her husband a look that dared him to tell her not to (which he didn't, preferring instead to look amused). With her and Connor's combined strength, they were finally able to get it open, and the five of them emerged onto what seemed to be a landing at the top of a long, tightly spiraling staircase.

They shone their flashlights eagerly in every direction. The small shafts of light glanced off several empty chandeliers and a series of massive, evenly spaced pillars, which they followed nearly fifty feet down to the floor, from which rose more tall, narrow book stacks than they could count, all of which were sagging slightly under the collective weight of millions of books. Wheeled ladders were fixed to each set of shelves, unlit lanterns hung expectantly beneath gilded labels describing the contents of the rows, tottering piles of unshelved books were scattered here and there, and everything was coated in a heavy layer of dust. The beams from their flashlights barely reached the other three walls, which, like the one behind them, were all hidden behind yet more bookcases. The landing on which they stood stretched all the way around the enormous room like a balcony overlooking a courtyard, and there were three more like it on levels beneath them.

"Oh, my God," Giles croaked. While he had known the Lost Archive must be impressive, he had never dreamed it would be like this.

"_Wicked_," said Faith.

"Still miss the Sunnydale High library, Giles?" asked Dawn.

"Not remotely," said Giles. "Erm, could someone please pinch me?" Faith obliged, which left Giles with a painful bruise on his left forearm, but he barely noticed it.

They slowly descended the steps and spent several minutes wandering the aisles aimlessly, though they stayed close together and kept their crossbows ready, in case whatever had caused the place to be sealed off all those years ago was still lurking somewhere among the shelves.

Giles felt as if he were in librarian heaven. There were books written in every language known to man and many known to demons. The most recent were from the first half of the nineteenth century, while others were hundreds—if not thousands—of years older. Dawn trailed her fingers idly over their spines as they walked past them. Of the ones they had seen so far, only a relative few of them were familiar to Giles. He knew he could easily spend the rest of his life in here without even finishing a tenth of these books. How could the Council have forgotten about this?

†

The answer to that question was crouching on top of the shelf thirty feet above where Giles and the others walked. The creature was larger than a lion and seemed to be made of solid shadow, except for its eyes, which glowed red like coals. Its limbs were long and sinewy, ending in long-toed paws with claws as sharp as daggers. It watched the intruders moving through its lair and bared its fangs. Their scent drifted up to it, and a century and a half of hunger stirred within it, but it drew no closer. After so long without light, the tiny beams they carried were too painful to look at or approach.

It watched them from above until they turned to leave again, and slunk back into the darkness to await their return.

†

Angel and Oz caught an Underground train from Heathrow and spent the next couple of hours riding random lines without finding any vampires—though Oz could smell that plenty of them had been down there, among at least a hundred other things. Eventually, they switched trains at the King's Cross St. Pancras tube station to one that would take them down the Piccadilly deep tube line.

A few seconds after they sat down across from each other, a tall, skinny man with long black hair boarded and sat few seats down from them. The hair on the back of Oz's neck stood up and his nostrils flared. Vampire. Oz caught Angel's eye and jerked his head towards him. Angel glanced briefly at the vampire, looked back at Oz, and nodded. The seats around them filled as other people got on, and they pretended to read newspapers while really watching the vampire out of the corners of their eyes.

When the train reached the fourth platform of the Holborn station, their quarry stood up and exited. Angel and Oz quickly pursued him. If it hadn't been for Oz's acute sense of smell, they would have lost him in the crowd. After weaving carefully through the press of Londoners going about their day, they spotted him again, slipping through a door at the end of a platform and into what looked like a storage cabinet. They followed him carefully into it, half expecting to have to fight him once they were inside, but he had already disappeared through another door on the opposite end of the small room.

Oz wrinkled his nose and stopped walking.

"What is it?" asked Angel, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That vamp's not the only one who's been through here." They both pulled out stakes and continued with even greater caution than before. Beyond the storage cabinet lay what had clearly once been another platform in the Holborn station, but many of its tiles were cracked or missing, and it had the abandoned air of a place that hadn't been used for decades. They turned into a hall so narrow that they couldn't walk side-by-side, and felt uncomfortably exposed by the row of bright fluorescent bulbs over their heads. The vampire they'd been following was nowhere in sight.

They passed a few dark doorways leading to empty rooms, the stench of vampires growing stronger by the second, and a new smell growing to challenge the first for dominance: blood. Oz halted again, and Angel almost walked into him. He pointed to a metal door a few feet in front of them that bore the word "DORMITORY" in large, rounded letters.

"I can hear voices," he said, "and someone crying. A girl."

Before they could investigate much further, a dark figure emerged from one of the rooms behind them that hadn't been as empty as they'd thought. Still focusing on the sounds coming from that door and somewhere…above them, his nose already overwhelmed by the smell of vampires and blood, Oz didn't notice the newcomer in time to warn Angel before he was tackled from behind. He staggered forward, crashing into Oz, who, like the final domino, went down with them.

Still in a heap on the floor, Angel grappled with the vampire who'd attacked him, but the narrow corridor did not allow him room to fight properly. Oz managed to distract him long enough with a kick to the face for Angel to plunge the stake into his chest, but now three more vampires took his place, each coming from a different room. Among them was the one they had followed.

"Isn't this fun?" Angel muttered as he and Oz got to their feet.

"Doesn't quite fit my definition of the word," said Oz.

Angel brandished his stake while Oz attempted to reign in his adrenaline-scattered thoughts enough to harness his inner wolf so that he could transform, but the vampires didn't give him enough time. In less than a minute, both of them were overwhelmed, and after receiving heavy blows to their heads, they lay unconscious on the dusty floor.

The door to the dormitories opened, and two more vampires entered the now crowded hall. The first was a stocky man with short blond hair and the second was a beautiful and exotic-looking woman whose hair fell in thick dark curls around her shoulders and down her back.

"What happened here?" asked the woman sharply.

"They followed me," said the first vampire.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to lead them all the way here to us, why?" asked the blond man, his tone dangerous. The first vampire and the other two who'd succeeded in incapacitating Angel and Oz recoiled slightly.

"Demetri," said the woman calmly, placing a hand on the blond vampire's forearm.

After a few seconds, the angry tension drained from him, and he surveyed the unconscious forms of Angel and Oz at his feet. "What do you think, Sophia? Should we kill them?"

"No," she said thoughtfully. "Not yet. I want to know how they knew where to find us and why they were looking. Besides, we might be able to make use of the werewolf, and," her gaze lingered on Angel's face, "I'd really like to find out how that one managed to impersonate Angelus so well—unless the rumors really are true." She turned magisterially to address the group of fidgeting minions. "Lock them up with the girls."

†

"This is insane," said Xander, staring blankly around Hatton Cross Station at Heathrow.

"No worries," said Renée. "I spent a couple of summers in London when I was a kid. Where'd Giles say Faith and Wood's flat was?"

"Uh, Gray's Inn Road."

"Right," said Renée, "then we take the Piccadilly line from here until it crosses with the Central line, and then to the Chancery Lane Station." She took Xander's hand and pulled him along. He continued to gape around while she handled the ticket-purchasing transaction, and stumbled slightly when she tugged him in the direction of their train.

They spent roughly forty-five minutes on that train before they had to get off at Holborn Station to switch to the Central line for the last leg of the journey.

"Good," said Renée, looking up at the station clock. "We've got about ten minutes until our train comes. I'll just pop into the loo for a moment."

"Okay," said Xander as she disappeared into the crowd of people on the platform. "I'll…just wait here." He turned around, looking for a bench. He spotted one, and was almost all the way to it, when he was distracted by a group of very pale people wearing dark clothing that was much heavier than the warm summer afternoon warranted, who were now moving in the same direction Renée had gone. Xander abandoned the bench and followed them, completely forgetting that he had no weapons.

†

As Renée washed her hands, she thought back to how bad the Underground's toilets had been the last time she had been in London, and appreciated the slight improvement. The door opened behind her, but when she looked in the mirror, she saw no one there. Before the door closed, however, she thought she caught a brief glimpse of a frantic-looking Xander unsuccessfully attempting to force his way towards her through the crowd.

Frowning, she turned around, only to come face-to-face with three burly vampires. Recovering from her surprise and mentally cursing her own inattentiveness while feeling grateful that nobody else was currently using the toilets, she immediately lashed out at the middle one, punching him twice in the face and kicking him in the stomach. This was precisely what they'd been waiting for. Even as the one she had attacked went down, the other two smirked in triumph and grabbed her before she could stop them. Their fellow got back up and pulled a syringe from the inner pocket of his coat.

"Xander!" she yelled, struggling violently, but she still could not get free, and then the middle vampire had stabbed her in the neck with the syringe.

"No, no, little Slayer," she heard him say as her surroundings began to blur, "you're coming with us, now."

†

Xander burst through the door of the women's lavatory, ignoring the scandalized looks he was receiving from a group of middle-aged ladies in the crowd. He saw the three men from the platform holding a limp and unresponsive Renée, and ran at them without thinking. Before he could do anything, the one on the left landed a devastating blow to his blind side, and he crumpled sideways into one of the stalls, completely dazed, the side of his head so full of pain that he was sure it would explode. He could hear Renée's parents' parting words to him ringing in his ears as she was dragged away and he lost the battle to retain consciousness.

"_I feel better about letting her go, knowing you'll be with her. She trusts you, so I trust you. Don't make me regret that, Harris_."

"_Take care of my little girl, won't you?"_

* * *

I think I've mentioned before how fond I am of cliffhangers, and I'm happy to say that I haven't kicked the habit of writing them yet. Didn't you just love all of those happy/insane/touching moments with Renée's family before I had her dragged off by vampires? Or how I sent Buffy and Willow out of London and then had Angel and Oz get captured? Or how I *still* haven't told you what Buffy(and Faith and Renée)'s dreams meant, or what Willow's weird vibes at the Obelisk were about? So much suspense! Fun times. Anyway, apart from the awesome Lost Archive and the government building that was formerly the headquarters of the Watchers' Council, every single place mentioned in this episode is real, from Millie's Cookies to the abandoned platform at Holborn Station. I haven't actually been to any of these places, alas, but I did find several very informative websites about them. The evil critter lurking in the Archive makes me happy. As do Sophia and Demetri, who I brought over to reprise their roles from "Worlds Apart", because they're way too awesome to confine to one piece of fanfiction. The other thing that makes me happy is Renée's bedroom.


	8. 9x08: Drinks All Around

Episode 8: Drinks All Around

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Olivia Williams (Adelle DeWitt from _Dollhouse_) as Althenea,

Alan Tudyk as Demetri,

and

Morena Baccarin as Sophia

†

"Willow! It's so lovely to see you again!" cried a tall, thin woman with long brown hair.

"Hi, Althenea," said Willow, beaming. They hugged warmly, before Althenea turned her attention to Buffy, who smiled awkwardly.

"Would you care to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, right. Althenea, this is Buffy; Buffy, this is Althenea. She's the one who really got me through my summer here."

"I can hardly believe it's been two years," said Althenea. She made a face. "Excluding last autumn, of course, when you brought that rather uncouth man here."

"How is good old Ethan doing?" asked Willow in mock concern.

"He's been quite a terror, actually," said Althenea ruefully. "But he hasn't been able to do much since we stripped his magic. I won't pretend that he's seen the error of his ways, but he certainly won't be able to repeat them." She smirked.

"I never got the chance to thank you for taking him off our hands," said Buffy, offering her own. Althenea shook it, closing her eyes when her skin made contact with Buffy's. She wore a knowing expression when she opened them again.

"Ah," she said. "The Slayer. And you come seeking counsel? I don't blame you. There have been dark portents of late."

"And, boy, have I got another one for you," said Willow. "I was at the Obelisk of Theodosius in Istanbul, and I haven't felt anything that dark since…," she glanced briefly at Buffy, "well, since me." Buffy put a hand on Willow's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Willow smiled gratefully at her.

"I'll tell the others in the Coven, and we'll see if we can't shed some light on the matter," said Althenea.

"Thanks," said Willow. She looked at Buffy again.

"Oh, yeah," said Buffy, remembering the other reason they were there. "Wil says there's someone who can interpret dreams?"

"Cassandra, yes," she said. "Shall I phone her?"

"Please," said Buffy gratefully. Althenea led them to her sitting room, where a teapot, three cups, and a plate of scones sat on the coffee table, then left to get the phone.

"Wow," said Buffy, looking around at the very normal room. "Not what I expected."

Willow grinned. "What, did you think the Coven was like a community of robe-wearing, Earth-worshipping vegans all sharing one house or something?"

"No," said Buffy defensively.

Willow laughed. "It's okay. That's kinda what I thought they'd be like before I came here, too, but most of them have a pretty normal life outside of the witchcraft. Families, jobs, and stuff. They don't like to show off their power or let it take control of their lives. It's part of them, but not the only part."

"Waxing kinda philosophical there, aren't you?" said Buffy, grinning.

Willow shrugged. "I learned a lot here. Being back sorta brings it all to the surface."

†

It took about twenty minutes for Cassandra to arrive, by which point Buffy and Willow had finished their tea and put a sizeable dent in the number of scones on the tray.

"Hello," said Cassandra pleasantly. She was a short, plump, motherly sort of woman who Buffy instantly felt she could trust. "Althenea tells me you've been having a troubling recurring dream lately."

"Yeah," said Buffy. "I don't know what it means. It's like I'm only seeing part of it."

"Well, then, if I could get you to relax and focus on this dream, I'll see what I can tell you. Go on, now, close your eyes, dear." Buffy did so, and Cassandra held her hands close to her temples and closed her eyes as well. Willow watched them sitting like that for several minutes before Cassandra pulled away and opened her eyes, frowning.

"What's wrong?" asked Willow. Buffy opened her eyes too, and looked from one witch to the other, feeling slightly worried.

"You were right," said Cassandra. "You have only been seeing part of it. A very small part, I might add. Too small for me to interpret."

"Then where's the rest of it?" asked Buffy, crestfallen. A possibility occurred to her and she looked at Willow. "Do you think it's split between all of the Slayers?"

"It could be," she said.

"You will need to put the pieces together if you wish to divine their meaning," said Cassandra.

"How am I supposed to do that?" asked Buffy crossly. They hadn't even finished finding all of the Slayers yet, and she didn't know how to unite the dreams of the ones they _did_ know about already anyway.

Willow gasped.

"What?" said Buffy.

"What about the big kitty?" she asked. "Isn't it sort of the spirit guide of Slayers? Maybe it can help."

†

Angel's skull felt as if it had been split in two. He thought he could hear voices, but they fell silent before he could be sure. With a groan, he tried to touch the throbbing wound to assess the damage, but encountered some kind of resistance at his wrists, which prevented him from moving either hand more than a couple of inches. Then he remembered how he had lost consciousness, and opened his eyes. He was bound, hands and feet, in a long room with a ceiling that curved smoothly down from the top of the wall to the floor opposite it, and he was not alone.

There were five girls in the room as well. Their hands were free, but heavy manacles were attached to their ankles. Four of them appeared to be in their late teens, but the fifth couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. All five were looking at Angel with wide eyes. They were pale, haggard, and worn, and the little one's face was streaked liberally with tear tracks. One of the older girls had her arms wrapped protectively around her, and as Angel looked the two of them huddled together, he saw that they could almost be duplicates of one another, if it wasn't for the ten year difference between their ages and the slightly darker brown of the younger's hair. Sisters, he guessed. With a thrill of mingled sympathy and revulsion, he saw the scars of innumerable bite marks around each girl's throat, some of which were only partially healed.

"You alright?" came Oz's groggy voice unexpectedly from nearby. Angel turned and saw the werewolf sitting several feet to his right, hands and feet bound the same way as his own.

"Yeah," said Angel, wincing as the pain on the top of his head throbbed unpleasantly. He looked at the girls. "How long have you been here?"

The first girl, whose unhealthy pallor was disguised by the sheer number of freckles on her skin, and whose strawberry-blonde hair fell in springy curls around her face, was the one to answer. "Months," she said. Her voice was hollow, and her expression, like the others', was bleak and hopeless. "Almost a year, fer me. They got Abby an' Livvy a few weeks ago. I'm Joselyn, an' this is Agatha, Catherine, Abigail, an' Olivia."

"What are those vamps doing to you?" asked Oz, not troubling to stop the horror from coloring his voice. In addition to the heavy scarring about their necks, all five of the girls smelled so strongly of vampires that he might have thought they were undead themselves, if it wasn't for the steady sounds of beating hearts apart from Angel's and his own.

"They come in twice a day to bring us food and twice a week to take blood from us," said Agatha. Her white-blonde hair and large gray eyes made her look almost ghostly. "Just enough so that we're always too weak to stop them but strong enough to stay alive. Most of the time, it's with a needle, but—" She broke off, closing those large eyes tightly, as if by doing so, she could escape the nightmare that was her existence.

Catherine, a very petite girl whose dark hair and eyes threw her pale skin into even sharper relief, picked up where Agatha had left off. Unlike the first two, who had sounded Irish and English, respectively, her accent was thickly German. "The leaders, Demetri and Sophia, they take it straight from the source." Angel recognized the names, which belonged to a pair of vampires even older than him. Darla had mentioned them to him, but their paths had never crossed.

"But why—," began Oz, only for Angel to cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask.

"Because they're Slayers, Oz," he said, still looking at the girls. "Ordinary human blood doesn't even compare. All they have to do is find a few of them, and they've got their own little self-replenishing stock of the stuff. They probably sell what they don't drink themselves on some kind of demon black market. My guess is that business is booming, which is probably why they tried to take Buffy. Increase their supply."

"I thought Slayers had to be at least in their teens before they were called," said Oz, his gaze lingering upon little Olivia.

"Maybe not," said Angel. He looked at Abigail. "It could run in families now that anyone with the potential is called. You two are sisters, right?"

"We are," she said. Another British girl.

"It's okay," he said. "We're going to get you out of here."

Agatha let out a derisive snort. "Who do you think you are? The Doctor?"

"Doctor who?" asked Angel, frowning.

"Yes!" said Agatha, which only confused Angel further.

"I love England," snickered Oz.

Angel made an impatient noise and moved the conversation back to relevant ground. "I'm Angel, and this is Oz. We've faced much worse than this, and we _will_ get you out."

"I'm sorry," said Agatha, "I'm sure you're both very brave and everything, but you're tied up even better than we are and I'm pretty sure they're going to see you as being more expendable than us, so what exactly do you think you can do?"

"They said they'd kill our families if we tried to escape," added Joselyn miserably. Tears formed in Olivia's eyes and she began to cry silently. Abigail hugged her sister tighter while she, Agatha, and Catherine glared at Joselyn, who looked horrified.

"I'm so sorry, Livvy!" she cried. "Please don't be upset."

"They've already killed our parents," Abigail explained bluntly, clutching Olivia still more tightly and brushing fiercely at the tears that had started in her own eyes.

Angel and Oz exchanged a glance before looking back at each of the five girls. "They won't be able to come after anyone else if they're dust," said Angel.

"We're gonna get you out," said Oz. "We promise."

No sooner had he spoken the last word than he froze and turned to face the door. Seconds later, the rest of them could hear it too. Someone was coming up the stairs towards them. More than one, by the sound of it, and they seemed to be having some difficulty with their ascent.

The door finally burst open, and two vampires emerged into the room. Between them, they were supporting an unconscious, black-haired, dark-skinned girl. Angel's and Oz's eyes widened in recognition, but they said nothing as the vampires fixed chains to Renée's ankles, leered at the other girls, and turned to leave. One of them aimed a kick at Angel's foot on the way back to the door, but Angel pulled back quickly enough that he missed and stumbled. A final snarl, and he and his fellow were gone.

"Renée!" said Angel and Oz together, once the sounds of the vampires' footsteps had faded into the distance. Renée did not move.

"You know her?" asked Agatha.

"She's a friend," said Angel.

"And on the plus side," said Oz, "if she was with Xander when they got her, he could help Willow and Buffy find us sooner, because right now I'm thinking outside help is our best bet." He had considered transforming, but since he was slightly larger as a wolf than he was as a man, that wouldn't even get him out of his own manacles, let alone help him free the others. Even if he did manage to wriggle free, he certainly wouldn't be able to kill all of the vampires lurking in the abandoned platform on his own so that they could escape, especially if they were on a diet of Slayer blood. No, outside help was definitely their best bet.

"If they didn't just kill Xander when they took her," said Angel glumly. He hoped Xander was alright. They might have a long way to go before they would be able to call each other friends more than just to appease Buffy and Renée, whose patience with their mutual animosity was nonexistent, but it didn't mean that Angel wished Xander ill.

†

Margaret Jennings, a middle-aged woman who'd lived in London her whole life, glanced anxiously at her wristwatch. Her train was due at the station any minute, but while she could usually rely on it to be late, every time she'd attempted to use the lavatory before catching it, it had arrived on time, with the result that she missed it by seconds. But there was nothing for it. She'd rather tempt the wrath of Murphy's Law than sit on that train for an hour with a full bladder.

With that, she scuttled off across the platform to the ladies' room and pushed the door open. Two seconds later, she let out a shrill scream. A bruised and unconscious man with shaggy black hair and a patch over his left eye lay sprawled on the floor by the toilets. Margaret was torn between calling for help and running back out to catch her train. What sort of man would end up unconscious on the floor of the ladies'? His eyepatch made her wary, for she rather foolishly associated the accessory with piracy and other criminal activities.

Before she could decide what to do, the man stirred—no doubt woken by her shriek. She watched apprehensively as he groaned and made to stand up, but cracked his head on the underside of one of the thin walls separating two stalls. Holding a hand to the place where the wall had hit him, he managed to get to his feet at last, though he seemed very unsteady. Finally, he caught sight of Margaret, and his expression became fearful and urgent.

"Did you see three big guys coming out of here with a black girl?" he asked. By his accent, she guessed that he was American.

"No," said Margaret, surprised. Her apprehension had gone, to be replaced by sympathy. It was impossible not to feel for the frantic young man before her. "I'm sorry."

"I have to find out where they've taken her," he said desperately. "I promised she'd be safe with me." He looked like he was about to have a complete mental breakdown.

"Do you need help?" asked Margaret. "Should I phone the police?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, but the police can't help. I've got to go." He staggered slightly when he began to head for the door, but gritted his teeth and kept going, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Margaret alone in the room.

†

Panic was engulfing Xander's mind so that he found it almost impossible to think clearly. Vampires had taken Renée, but it didn't make sense. If they were strong enough to subdue a Slayer, why hadn't they just killed them both? Why had they taken her? Did they want to turn her? The idea made his blood run cold, but the more he thought about it, the less likely he thought it was. If Nyx was any example, a Slayer-turned-vampire would be far more trouble than she was worth, even for other vampires.

Whatever they were planning, he had to find Renée, but he was distinctly lacking in the area of home-field advantage. The realization that he couldn't do this by himself sliced through him like an icy knife and continued to fester all the way to Faith and Wood's apartment. He hammered on the door, but nobody answered. Where were they? He had their phone number, but it wouldn't do much good if they weren't inside. He slumped to the ground in defeat, his back to the door, and buried his face in his hands.

†

"I think we should try to figure out a different way to get down here," said Connor. He, Dawn, Giles, Faith, and Wood had returned to the basement of the old Watchers' Council headquarters building to pay their second visit to the Council's Lost Archive that day. This time, it had been much trickier to get past the first floor and to the stairwell, because they'd run into a couple of surly guards.

"I have an idea," said Dawn. "But I'm not sure it's gonna work. If it does, we can reseal the wall over the door so they," she gestured at the ceiling, "won't see it and try to investigate if they ever come down here."

"Huh?" said Faith.

"You'll see," said Dawn. "I hope." She led the way past the first heavy door and into the downward-sloping hallway, then stopped and faced the wall.

"Erm, Dawn," said Giles uncertainly. "What are you trying to do?"

"Make a doorway," she said. "I've never tried to make one that goes to somewhere else in the same dimension, but it's probably the same principle."

"Awesome," said Connor, grinning.

"You guys have room at your place for a mystical doorway?" asked Dawn. "It'd look kinda funny in the middle of the living room, but I think I could try to get it up against a wall somewhere, and then you could put up a curtain or a tapestry over it, or something."

Faith and Wood looked at each other, both a little bewildered. "Uh, would the back of the pantry be a good place?" asked Wood.

"Sure," said Faith.

"Okay, then here goes," said Dawn. She closed her eyes and concentrated with all her might on the designated spot at the apartment. It was a good thing she'd actually foraged through the pantry in search of snacks during their visit, or it would have been much more difficult.

"It's working!" said Connor excitedly. Dawn opened her eyes and saw that her right hand was shining green. She smiled in satisfaction, then plunged the glowing appendage through the wall and into the uncomfortable void where she would find her destination. It took a few seconds, but at last her fingers made contact with something solid. She pulled on it hard, then withdrew her arm from the circle of bright blue light that had formed around it. Faith and Wood could see the shelf that held their cereal through the hole, and their jaws dropped. As they, Connor, and Giles watched in amazement, Dawn stretched the ring of light into a roughly rectangular shape about the size of an ordinary door. When she was finished, she winced and examined the fingers of her right hand, which felt as if they had been crushed, but showed no signs of damage except for slight bruising.

"Tah-dah!" she said, moving aside so that Faith and Wood could walk through.

"Neat trick," said Faith appreciatively from the other side. She pulled a package of Jammie Dodgers off a shelf and began to munch on one.

"It is rather handy," agreed Giles.

Faith opened the pantry door and peered into the kitchen, then put a hand on her stomach and looked at her husband. "We're really gonna have to kid-proof this thing," she said, indicating the pantry door. "And put like a doorbell or something on this side." He grinned.

Meanwhile, Dawn was contemplating the tunnel wall opposite the door she had just created. She pondered for a moment, then gave a decisive nod and shut her eyes tightly again.

Giles jumped slightly when he saw the green light out of the corner of his eye, and he turned in time to see Dawn reaching through the wall and opening a second doorway. "Where will that one go?" he asked. Connor turned to watch too.

"You'll see," said Dawn, but no sooner had she finished than there came a shriek from the other side.

"What the hell?" It was Cole, though the shriek had come from Alex. Dawn's second doorway led to the office of the Hyperion, which currently contained the drummer and bassist of Oz's band, and all evidence indicated that they had just caught them making out on the desk.

"I win," said Dawn smugly. There had been a long-running competition amongst the Hyperion's inhabitants—and previously those of Summers' Academy for Girls—to see who could catch Alex and Cole kissing first. Now, at last, was evidence that they actually did act like a couple, let alone married people. Giles gave Dawn a stern look while the interrupted pair continued to stare at her in utter bewilderment. Dawn forced her face into an expression of contrition. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"But aren't you in London?" asked Alex, her now beet-red face contrasting oddly with her dyed green bangs.

"Yep," said Dawn. "But you can, uh, go back to what you were doing now. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"That's okay," said Cole shakily. He and Alex left the office, presumably heading for a more private room.

"Nice going," said Connor, smirking.

"Hey," said Dawn indignantly, elbowing him in the ribs, "what's the point of finding an ginormous ancient library if we have to fly back and forth between Los Angeles and here all the time to use it?"

"Okay, good point," he said. Giles looked rather impressed.

"Last one now," said Dawn. She then proceeded to create a third doorway, which led to the second floor of the Academy in Cleveland. Once it was complete, Giles explained what was going on to a very startled Vi on the other side while Dawn winced and looked at her fingers, which were now oozing blood from the nails. As useful as this ability was, she thought it probably wouldn't be very healthy for her to keep using unless it was really necessary.

†

Buffy and Willow opened their eyes, frowned, and blinked very hard. "Did we come to the right place?" Buffy asked. It seemed like they had, for her voice echoed around them without her having moved her lips, but the place was completely unrecognizable. Where there had once been an endless desert with rolling dunes, tall outcrops of sandstone, and the occasional brittle weed, large trees with thick, sprawling roots and vast canopies of leaves now grew all around them.

"It looks like Fanghorn Forest," said Willow. Buffy looked at her. "But it's probably not, though, 'cause, fictional."

"Welcome back," said a deep, rumbling voice from behind them. They spun around, smiling, and their mouths fell open. Walking towards them through the trees, as they had known it would be, was the white tiger they had come to ask for help several times before. Their surprise was due to the fact that it was now even bigger than it had been in the spring. Even standing on four paws, its fiery blue eyes gazed down at them from at least a foot above their heads. It gave what they assumed was a smile. "You are wondering, I believe, why the landscape has become so vibrant in your absence," it said.

"Yeah, actually," said Willow.

"You destroyed the First Evil and freed the past Slayers from its service. In doing so, you repaired the damage to the line, making it healthy and whole again. This plane reflects that change."

Something from a different dream, long buried in Buffy's memory, came back to her. "Trees in the desert," she murmured in awe. Willow was confused, but the tiger's eyes were bright with understanding.

"You are troubled by your dream," it said.

"What does it mean?" asked Buffy. "Cassandra said I was only having a piece of it. Can you show me the rest?"

"No." Their faces fell, but the tiger wasn't finished. "But I can let you see through the eyes of your sister Slayers."

"I thought I could only see past Slayers," said Buffy.

"Living or dead, you are all connected by the calling you share. I can help you reach through this connection, but I cannot direct you. Only you will be able to determine what you find."

Buffy looked at Willow, who nodded encouragingly. "Okay, show me how this works."

"Come forward." She did so, and it lifted one gigantic front paw and touched it to her forehead. Buffy only had a second to marvel at how gentle the contact was for such a large creature, before her mind was overwhelmed by a vivid slideshow of images.

†

To Angel and Oz's enormous relief, Renée had finally regained consciousness. They quickly began to fill her in on the situation and had only barely finished doing so when the door opened and a stocky blond vampire entered. Joselyn, Agatha, Catherine, Abigail, and Olivia all recoiled. "Demetri," said Joselyn in a terrified whisper.

"The boys said you two were awake now," he said, looking from Angel to Oz, who said nothing. "Thought I'd come up for a chat." He walked forward and came to a stop in front of Oz. "I'm guessing you're the one who found us down here," he said, his arms folded across his chest as he looked Oz up and down.

"Guilty."

"How long did it take?"

Oz didn't see the point in lying. "Couple of hours," he said.

Angel thought he could hear the faintest undercurrent of pride in his tone.

"That's not bad, for a city this big," said Demetri. "We could use a tracker like you. You wouldn't be the first werewolf I've worked with."

"Sorry," said Oz unapologetically, "but my ambitions are more about guitar chords and less about fetching girls for vamps to snack on."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Demetri. Before anyone saw it coming, he had moved into a crouch and slammed the heel of his hand down on Oz's left calf. The sound of bones snapping was like a gunshot in the narrow room. Oz let out a howl of pain that sounded more wolfish than human and Angel and Renée struggled against their bonds and opened their mouths to shout furiously at Demetri, but he cut across them.

"Anyone says a word and the little one gets an extra turn today," he said without taking his eyes off Oz, whose face was contorted with pain and the effort of resisting the urge to cry out again. The other five chained to the wall looked at Angel and Renée imploringly—they knew Demetri wasn't bluffing—and their mouths snapped shut. Olivia trembled.

"I'll let you think it over while that heals," said Demetri. He stood up and faced his Slayer prisoners, his expression contemplative. "Dinner time." They each shrank back against the wall in fear when his gaze passed over them—except Renée, whose head remained high and expression defiant. Demetri's cold blue eyes halted when they reached her, and his lips quirked up in a predatory leer. "Hmm, I think I'll give the new vintage a try," he said, his features becoming demonic as he walked towards her.

Renée yelled and tried to stop him when he reached her, but she was still partially paralyzed by the muscle relaxant component of the drug her abductors had given her, and her retaliation was weak and uncoordinated. Demetri laughed at her attempts to resist, then forced her to her feet with a hand around her neck. "Let's give you another scar to go with that one on your face," he said, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and jerking her head to the side, exposing her throat. Renée clenched her jaw and pressed her eyelids tightly closed when she felt his fangs pierce her skin. Not even the sword that left her face scarred had hurt this much.

Everyone else looked away, trying to block out the sounds of him drinking. Fury and wild, impossible escape plans chased each other around Angel's head while Oz panted harshly, trying to keep himself from passing out from the agony that was his leg. When Demetri had finished, he let go of Renée abruptly so that she crumpled to the floor, where she lay barely able to move, blood still seeping from the fresh, jagged wound in her neck.

Demetri's face reverted back to its human form. "Have a nice night," he said, then left the room.

He'd only been gone a few seconds when the door opened again, and a woman of breathtaking beauty entered. Sophia.

"I suppose you'll be playing the part of the good cop," said Angel dryly.

"Only because I do not share Demetri's fondness for brutality," she said. "There are more refined ways of achieving one's goals. I learned that long before I became a vampire."

"When you were a courtesan in Italy," said Angel. "I can see how that philosophy would have served you well."

Sophia smiled. "So you have heard of me."

"And that goes both ways, doesn't it?" he said shrewdly.

"Oh, yes. I've wanted to meet you for quite some time, Angelus."

"Yeah, well, you're about a century late for that."

"So I've noticed," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly in distaste. "And now you've even managed to get a pulse to go along with the soul. Impressive."

"Thanks."

"But why would you want this?" she asked, frowning. "Why give up what you had? Immortality, power without consequences. Mortal life is nothing compared to this."

Angel chuckled. She didn't understand what a gift this was. She couldn't, really, though she certainly wasn't alone in her perspective. Darla, the First, Wolfram and Hart…

"I could give it back to you," she purred, moving closer to him.

Angel could feel the uncertain stares of the Slayers on him and wished that this conversation didn't have to be in front of them. "Hmm," he said in mock thoughtfulness. "Tempting, but no."

"Pity," she said, then turned and walked to the door. "But the offer still stands if you change your mind."

†

Buffy had intended to focus on her dream so that she could search for the pieces other Slayers had seen, but all thoughts of dreams were soon buried beneath the avalanche of foreign images. She saw the Hyperion and the Academy from at least forty different vantage points, as well as hundreds of other places she'd never seen before.

She tried again to think only of the dream, but then something else distracted her. Angel. Chained to a wall. The image changed before she could register it properly, but then there he was again, this time from a slightly different angle. And again. Now that her attention was on him, the image froze. She could see Oz too, and Renée. What was going on? Renée was bleeding from the neck and Oz looked like he was in a considerable amount of pain. They were with five other girls—girls who must be Slayers, if she could see through their eyes this way—in a long room with a curved ceiling.

Buffy staggered backwards and the image vanished. She saw the tiger looking at her with those huge fiery eyes.

"What happened?" asked Willow. "Did you see the rest of the dream?"

Buffy turned to look at her, her expression deadly serious. "They've got Angel and Oz," she said.

"What?" asked Willow. Her face had gone white. "Who's got them? Where?"

"I don't know. They were in London looking for the vamps who sent the ones that tried to take me last night. They must have gotten captured. Renée's there too, and five other Slayers. Renée's been bitten, and I think Oz's leg is broken."

Willow's gaze had drifted to a point slightly to Buffy's left, and she seemed to be in shock. Buffy thought she saw the shadow of the night Willow had avenged Tara stirring beneath the surface, but felt no desire to counteract it. These were vampires they were dealing with, not lawless, power-hungry men. Willow met Buffy's eyes, and in that instant, no words were needed. They clasped hands and returned to the conscious plane, leaving the tiger guide alone in its forest.

†

"I still can't believe this place is really here," said Faith. After Dawn finished obsessive-compulsively ensuring that her three doorways were uniform in size and shape, they had continued down the tunnel towards the entrance to the Archive.

"You're not alone," Giles assured her. They pushed the heavy door open and entered, the flashlights mounted on their crossbows blazing in the dusty darkness.

"We should ask Willow to do a light spell in here," said Dawn.

"Quite," Giles agreed. "I don't much fancy having to use these confounded torches all the time." He gave his flashlight an impatient shake, as it had begun to flicker.

They descended the stairs until they reached the ground floor, where they began to look at the contents of the shelves again. The dust that lay thickly over everything billowed into choking clouds whenever it was disturbed, so that they had to cover their mouths to avoid breathing it in. The darkness was so dense around them and the beams from their flashlights so small that they didn't even consider splitting up.

They rounded another corner to head up yet another aisle, but stopped in their tracks. "What's that?" asked Faith, more because she hoped she was wrong than because she didn't already know. About twenty feet away from them was a dusty human skeleton. The hair stood up on the backs of all of their necks.

"I think we should go back," said Dawn nervously. Everyone else agreed, and they turned, only to come face to face with a pair of glowing red eyes. Their yells of alarm and horror echoed around the cavernous room, and the creature to which the eyes belonged replied with a low, thunderous growl and bared a row of fangs as long as daggers. It seemed to be somewhere between canine and feline, though its face was too flat and toes too long to be either, and it was very plain that had they not turned around when they did, they would have already been dead. As it was, the beast cringed under the beams of light that fell upon it.

All five of them fired their crossbows. At point-blank range, it was impossible to miss, but the bolts passed straight through their target as if it was made of smoke, and then it vanished.

"Where did it go?" asked Connor. They shone their flashlights in every direction, but they couldn't see it anywhere.

"We need to get out of here," said Wood. They made it to the landing just below the exit before the creature appeared again—just materialized out of the shadows. Knowing their weapons were useless, they ran for it. It pursued them up the last flight of stairs, trying to dodge the beam from Giles's flashlight, which had started to flicker again.

At last, the door was in sight. "_AAAGH!_" yelled Giles. His flashlight had gone out, and the creature had lunged forward, slashing viciously with its claws.

"Giles!" cried Dawn. She doubled back and pointed her flashlight at the monster, which was bearing down on the Watcher again. It shrank back from the light, which was joined seconds later by the beams from the other three flashlights as Faith, Wood, and Connor all came to help.

"You okay?" asked Faith.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Giles through gritted teeth. His right sleeve was in bloody tatters, but he seemed to be all right. In the time it had taken them to reassure themselves of his well being, the creature had vanished again. Concerned only with getting out alive, they ran to the door and slammed it shut. As the lock was broken, Connor hastily replaced the heavy plank of wood that had sat horizontally across the door that afternoon.

"Now we know why they sealed the place shut," said Faith grimly.

"What…was that thing?" panted Wood.

"I haven't the faintest idea," said Giles, wincing as he gingerly examined the long gashes in his arm.

Connor's brow was furrowed. "I think I might have seen something like it in Quor'Toth, but I'm not sure. I remember killing that one with a sword, but I don't think that'll work on this one."

†

Xander's head jerked up. Once again, he thought he had heard movement within the supposedly empty apartment. The first time this happened, nobody answered when he pounded on the door, so he thought he must have imagined it. This time, however, he knew the voices were real, for they were loud and belonged to his two best friends.

"Buffy, Willow, is that you?" he called through the door. Seconds later, it opened to reveal them both. Buffy was on the floor, looking as though she was about to be sick, and Willow was standing before him, looking positively dangerous. "How did you get here?" he asked.

"Teleported," said Willow stiffly. "From Westbury. But we're not staying long. Once Buffy gets over the teleportation sickness, we're going."

"Going?" he asked. "But I need you to help me find Renée!"

"Then you're in luck," said Buffy as she struggled to her feet. "She's with Angel and Oz."

"Huh?" said Xander. "Vamps took them too?"

"Do you know where they took them?" asked Willow.

"No! That's why I need help!" said Xander in exasperation.

"Where are Faith and Wood?" asked Buffy. "And Giles," she added. They needed people who knew their way around London.

"I have no idea," he said hopelessly. At that precise moment, however, there came a loud noise and several familiar voices from the direction of the kitchen. The three of them exchanged very confused glances and went to investigate, only to crash headlong into Faith, Wood, Dawn, Connor, and Giles, who were all piling out of the pantry.

* * *

I've been waiting to use that second _Doctor Who_ reference for so long.


	9. 9x09: Hell Hath No Fury

Episode 9: Hell Hath No Fury

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Alan Tudyk as Demetri,

Morena Baccarin as Sophia,

and

Olivia Williams as Althenea

†

"You okay?" Angel asked Oz.

The werewolf's face was contorted with agony as he clutched his broken leg. Every other second, a shadow of the beast inside him could be seen behind his features. "No," he said through clenched teeth that went from blunt to sharp and back again with each wave of pain. "But I'll live. What about Renée?"

Angel turned to look at the young woman in question. Her dark skin was unusually pale and coated in a light sheen of sweat. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she was barely conscious, but the ugly wound on the left side of her throat had, at least, stopped bleeding.

"She'll be alright," he said rather grimly. "She stood up to Demetri, so he took more blood from her than he probably would have done—to punish her. Still wasn't enough to put her in real danger, though."

Oz nodded jerkily.

After a moment had passed in silence, Angel noticed that the blonde, ghostly-looking Slayer, Agatha, was staring at him. "Why was Sophia talking to you like that?" she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion and distrust. "What did she mean by that offer she made you? All that stuff about you getting a pulse, and her being a century too late to meet you?"

"I used to be like her," said Angel. Rarely had he hated what he had once been as much as he did at that moment, surrounded by these woebegone victims of his former fellows. "A vampire."

Unmistakable—and understandable—loathing filled Agatha's expression at his words, and Joselyn, Catherine, and Abigail had similar looks on their faces, though less intense. Little Olivia simply watched him, her large blue eyes wide. "Why are you here?" demanded Agatha, closing in on him as much as she could with the chains on her ankles. "What do you want with us?"

"I told you already: I want to free you," said Angel patiently. "You—all of you—you're meant to kill their kind, not be their free drink refills." When their expressions did not soften, he changed tact. "Do you think they would have chained me up if I was on their side? Believe me, if I was still like them, things would be much worse for you. You're being fed, you get to stay together, and, apart from taking your blood, they're not hurting you. You don't want to know what hell your lives would be down here if I was with them."

"You're talking like you'd have run the show," said Agatha disdainfully. "Demetri's always saying that we've got it too easy, but that it's not up to him."

"That's because Sophia is his sire. Her will is his highest law, and obviously she thinks keeping you healthy improves the quality of your blood. She wasn't my sire, though, and I wouldn't have cared if that quality suffered a little. There wouldn't have been anything stopping me from doing things my way. But, lucky for you, I'm on _your_ side, and whether you like that or not, you don't really have the luxury of being picky about your allies right now."

They looked away, and he felt slightly guilty for making them feel worse than they already did. "Look," he began again, his tone much gentler, "my wife is a Slayer, just like all of you. Four of Demetri's guys tried to get her yesterday, and she dusted them in under a minute."

"Really?" asked Joselyn, looking awed. She wasn't the only one.

Angel smiled and nodded. "She and Willow—Oz's wife, who happens to be a very powerful witch—know he and I were following their trail, and they'll be able to get us out."

"How can you be sure they won't get captured too when they try?" asked Abigail in despair.

"Yeah," said Agatha. "How do you know Demetri and Sophia won't just use you two as bait?"

Angel's smile became a smirk. "You don't know Buffy and Willow. Believe me, we're not bait. We're the Trojan Horse."

†

"Where did you come from?" Buffy and Faith asked each other in unison, while Xander said, "You're _pregnant_?" to the latter and Willow noticed Giles and exclaimed in concern over his bleeding arm.

"We came from the mystical doorway Dawn made in the pantry; yes, I'm pregnant, so hands off if you want them to stay attached; and Giles got clawed by this shadow beast thing in the big library place we just escaped from," said Faith.

"Oh," said Xander, looking more confused than ever.

"What's wrong?" asked Dawn, staring at her sister's stricken, desperate face.

"Where's Angel?" asked Connor. Faith stiffened.

"We think he's being held hostage by vamps here in London," said Buffy. "Oz and Renée too, plus a few other Slayers."

"They got Renée when we were on the Underground," said Xander.

"The Underground's crawling with vampires," said Wood.

"Yeah, that's where that gang of them jumped me in June," said Faith.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Did they have a syringe?" she asked.

Faith frowned. "Now I think about it, yeah, they did," she said. "Didn't get the chance to use it, though." She smirked in satisfaction at the memory. She had thrown the syringe-wielding vampire into the path of an oncoming electric train, which effectively ended his attempts to administer the drug.

"Which Tube station was this, Faith?" asked Giles. He winced and put his left hand to his injured right arm.

Faith thought for a moment. "Holborn, I think," she said finally.

Xander gasped. "That's where Renée and I were, too."

"The room I saw Angel, Oz, and Renée in definitely looked like it could have been underground," said Buffy. "And the ceiling was all curvy, like a tunnel, maybe?"

"There's no way that's a coincidence," said Willow.

"So you think the vamps have their home base down there?" asked Connor skeptically.

"Yeah, wouldn't the thousands of Londoners using those trains every day have noticed?" said Xander.

"Not necessarily," said Giles. "There are plenty of abandoned platforms and tunnels in the Underground. I happen to know that Holborn Station has two such platforms apart from the four that are in use."

"How do you know that?" asked Buffy incredulously.

"My father took refuge there during the Blitz," he said lightly. "It was a thrilling tale he told time and time again throughout my childhood."

"Wow," said Dawn.

"Yes, well," Giles continued modestly, "considering the rather laughable initiative London generally shows towards improving and updating its infrastructure, I'd say it's a fair bet that the unused platforms still exist."

"Buffy, did you say you've seen that room?" asked Dawn.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because if Giles can tell me exactly where it is and you can tell me exactly what it looks like, I think I can get us all there."

†

"What on Earth was that about?" asked Cassandra. After Buffy and Willow's unceremonious departure from the house, she and Althenea had remained in the sitting room, confused.

"I can't be certain—they left so quickly, but I rather think that they left because people they love are in danger," said Althenea thoughtfully.

"Well, I do hope they'll be able to put everything right," said Cassandra, helping herself to a cup of tea. "I don't know much about the friend, but heaven knows Willow doesn't need any more heartache."

"No, indeed," sighed Althenea. At that moment, the telephone rang, and she excused herself from the room to go answer it. While she was gone, Cassandra pondered what she had glimpsed of Willow's friend's dream. It really hadn't been much to go on, and it was all rather vague and patchy. She wasn't at all surprised that the young woman hadn't been able to make heads or tails of it.

Althenea returned within moments of her departure, looking distinctly less relaxed than before. "What is it?" asked Cassandra.

"That was Amelia," said Althenea. "She and a few of the others have noticed an upsurge of dark energy this afternoon in Wales, about thirty miles west of Wrexham. It's bigger than anything we've seen in recent years."

"Hmm. Perhaps the dream had something to do with it."

"My thoughts exactly. I'll contact Willow at once."

†

"What's that?" asked Olivia in a tone of wonder.

Everyone but Oz, whose eyes were closed and breathing was labored as he continued to fight against the pain, and Renée, who had finally succumbed to her blood loss-induced weakness and passed out, looked to see what the child was pointing at. A bright blue glimmer had appeared about four feet above the ground at the end of the long room. They watched in silence as the light expanded abruptly into a ring larger than a hula-hoop, and then a brunette teenager toppled through it, her face as white as a sheet and her eyes rolling backward.

"Dawn!" cried Angel, half bewildered, half fearful that she would be injured in her fall. He needn't have worried, however. Before she hit the ground, Connor came through the shining blue ring behind her and caught her in his arms.

"Hey, Dad," he said, as casually as if they were meeting at a park for lunch.

"Is she okay?" Angel asked, looking at Dawn. Before Connor could answer, two more people came bursting through the mystical doorway.

Oz's head jerked up. "Willow," he said. His features became instantly serene, as if the pain he felt had suddenly vanished. Their reunion was mirrored by that of Buffy and Angel. By the way Buffy threw herself into Angel's arms and began peppering his face with relieved kisses, they might have been apart for weeks, as opposed to hours.

Xander was next to come through. He saw Renée, ran the short distance to her, and pulled her limp form into his arms. "Oh, God," he said hoarsely, gingerly touching the wound on her neck. "Who did this to her?"

"Demetri," said Agatha.

"She's not—," he began in a tone of horror, but Angel cut across him.

"She'll be okay," he said. "He didn't turn her, and he didn't drink enough to kill her."

"Are ye really here to rescue us?" asked Joselyn.

"That we are," came Faith's voice. She, Wood, and Giles brought up the rear. With the additions of eight people and a portal to the long, narrow room, it had become uncomfortably cramped.

"Connor," said Buffy over the loud metallic snaps of her breaking Angel's manacles open. "Take Dawn back to Faith and Wood's."

Connor obeyed without question. After breaking Renée's shackles so that Xander could carry her through the portal after Connor and Dawn, Faith moved to each of the other five girls in turn and broke them loose as well, while Buffy moved to help Willow free Oz.

"Why won't it work?" asked Willow, tears of frustration sparkling in her eyes.

"What?" asked Buffy.

"I'm trying to heal him, but it's not working!" she burst out.

"I'll be fine," grunted Oz, reaching out to take one of Willow's hands in his. "Broken leg won't kill me. Just get us out of here, and you can try again later."

"But you're in pain," Willow protested. Anger and concern were warring across her features, and concern was only barely winning.

"It's not bad," lied Oz, suppressing a wince.

Within minutes, everyone who had been imprisoned in the abandoned platform was safely in Faith and Wood's apartment. Wood had reverted to principal mode and was shepherding Joselyn, Agatha, Catherine, Abigail, and Olivia into the kitchen to get them properly fed for the first time since their abduction and, in the cases of the former three, contacting their families. Faith was helping him, because she couldn't escape the feeling that if she had found these girls in the first place while traveling Europe in search of Slayers, this whole thing could have been avoided. Somehow, she had missed them, and the price of that error had been high.

†

"Is that little girl really a Slayer too?" asked Connor in a hushed voice, craning slightly in his seat in the living room so he could see where Olivia and the others were still gathered in the kitchen.

Buffy nodded. "I wouldn't have been able to see through her eyes with the big kitty if she wasn't," she said quietly, "but I don't get why she's one already." She fell into a troubled silence—a silence that spiraled around the group as they vaguely watched Willow's renewed but equally fruitless attempts to magically mend Oz's leg.

"Abigail said their parents were killed when they were taken," said Angel. "Maybe the trauma of that event activated Olivia early."

"Hers wouldn't be the only case of supernatural ability manifesting in times of great stress," said Giles. "Poor girl."

"She's lucky, though," said Angel. "If she hadn't been activated when she was, Sophia and Demetri would have had her killed too."

After another minute, Xander, who had been looking at Renée with unfocused eye throughout the entire conversation, abruptly stood up. Everyone looked at him. "Come on," he said, his jaw muscles tight with barely controlled anger. "We've got a vamp nest to clean out."

†

The "clean-up crew" consisted of Buffy, Angel, Willow, Xander, Giles, and Connor. Faith had grudgingly admitted that, at five months pregnant, she really couldn't risk a fight against vampires this strong. Wood stayed too, both to make her feel better about not being able to get a piece of the violence and to look after the girls. Buffy had thought Giles would want to do the same, considering the state of his arm, but he had rather fiercely declared that, as a tenured Watcher, he wanted to personally ensure that the fiends who had been exploiting those Slayers were reduced to ash.

As Angel had informed the other five of how unhelpfully limited the space was in the corridor below the room where he, Oz, and the Slayers had been chained, as well as that a vampire (who had been a Red Cross volunteer before he was turned) would be coming up to take the Slayers' blood any minute, they waited in the room, ready to spring an ambush. As expected, the aforementioned vampire arrived within moments, a box of stolen Red Cross equipment in his arms. The shock of coming face-to-face with six people (of whom all were armed, none were in shackles, and only one was even supposed to be there) delayed his reaction for two full seconds, during which Xander rammed a stake between his ribs with an expression of cold hatred on his face.

But that was as far as things went according to plan. While the rest were content to wait, knowing more vampires would come to investigate when the first failed to return with their food, and that they were ideally placed to pick them off one at a time once that happened, Willow was not.

Murderous intent was etched into her face as she pushed past Xander and disappeared through the open door and down the stairs. She was deaf to the others' attempts to call her back. All she knew was that as long as she was unable to end Oz's pain, she was going to cause it in those who had inflicted it upon him.

The strip lights flickered over Willow's head as she arrived in the narrow corridor at the base of the stairs. She knew she would have only seconds until everyone else caught up with her, and she was determined not to waste them. For that, she was in luck. The vampires must have heard the noise upstairs, for three of them emerged into the corridor at the same time she did.

"Oi, Ginger, what're you doin' down 'ere?" shouted the nearest. Willow gave him and his fellows a cursory glance, but she knew they weren't the one she was looking for.

"Where's Demetri?" she asked in a low, deadly voice as, with a wave of her hand, all three of them were lifted off their feet and slammed hard against the ceiling, sending trickles of white dust floating down from it. None of them answered her, but the second one's eyes flickered briefly towards a door down the hall. Willow sprinted beneath them until she reached the indicated door, which flew open as the three vampires dropped with sickening thuds back to the floor and Buffy, Angel, Connor, Xander, and Giles piled into the tight space.

Several additional vampires had arrived on the scene by then as well, but Willow wasn't worried about them. She knew they wouldn't make it past Buffy and the others. Without hesitation, therefore, she walked through the door. It was like stepping through a portal to the seventeenth century. The room wasn't large, but the luxurious tapestries, silver candelabras, and ornate antique furniture—none of it overdone—lent it an air of grandness all the same.

But this grandeur was completely lost on Willow, who had eyes only for the two vampires in the room, whom she knew at once to be Demetri and Sophia. As Demetri had Sophia pressed against the wall and was trailing possessive kisses down her throat, she was the one to notice Willow first. She nudged Demetri, who pulled away reluctantly.

"Don't you knock, witch?" he said with a scowl of annoyance.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Willow sardonically. "Looks like you two had a real romantic evening planned."

"My, my," said Sophia without interest, "the third intruder in one day."

"Meanwhile, intruders two and four through eight are playing with your friends in the hall," said Willow. "Oh, and we've confiscated your food supply."

"I knew those minions were worthless," said Demetri with an exasperated groan.

"Yeah, you might want to work on that," said Willow, "if, you know, I let you live." She looked at Sophia. "Leave."

Sophia laughed, but Demetri considered Willow for a second. "Go help the others," he said. "This should be fun."

"Very well," she sighed, casting a look of amused disdain at Willow before leaving the room. She had no sooner entered the corridor than Buffy knocked into her, unbalanced from her current fight against one of the other vampires. Together, they fell into the room across from the one in which Willow and Demetri now squared off. Buffy and Sophia both shoved each other away and got to their feet.

"You must be Sophia," said Buffy, brandishing Mr. Pointy.

Sophia's eyes roved over Buffy appraisingly. "And you must be the reason Angelus seems to prefer his mortal life to the one he had before. I offered to turn him back, you know."

"You can't have Angel," Buffy snarled.

"No," Sophia agreed with a twinge of regret. "He declined my offer. He seems to be yours entirely." She chuckled. "The former Scourge of Europe married to a Slayer. It is strange, but I respect his past enough to honor his wishes."

Buffy was completely taken aback by this attitude, which she had never before encountered in a vampire. "Um, thanks," she said blankly.

†

Despite the limited space, the four men were doing quite well against the vampires in the corridor. Their unexplained presence there had confused their opponents so much that they weren't fighting back as effectively as they might have done. Giles, Angel, and Xander had dusted two apiece, and Connor had taken out four. Only three remained.

†

"Hmm, you're here about the werewolf, aren't you?" asked Demetri with a cruel smirk. "I can smell him all over you. How's his leg?"

"Oh, about like this," said Willow. Despite her calm tone, the lights flickered worse than ever, and she raised her hand and jerked it sharply in the direction of his left calf, both bones of which immediately broke. Demetri let out a yell of mingled pain, shock, and anger, but didn't fall to the ground because Willow was keeping him upright by magic.

†

There was a loud buzzing noise, and then the lights in the hall completely failed. In the darkness that resulted, Giles let out an agonized cry of pain. Neither Angel, Xander, nor Connor understood the cause. They had just succeeded in killing the last of the vampires, so he couldn't have been attacked. The lights came on again, much dimmer than before, but bright enough for them to see him doubled over, clutching at the gashes the shadow beast's claws had left in his arm. The wounds now seemed to be coated in the same solidified darkness of which the creature's flesh was made, and it appeared to be spreading across Giles's skin in vein-like tendrils.

"What's happening to him?" asked Angel and Xander in unison. They blinked and glanced awkwardly at each other, for that had certainly been a first.

"It must have been what that shadow beast did to him in the Archive," said Connor, looking horrified.

"Get him back to the portal," said Angel urgently. Connor nodded, and Angel and Xander turned to go find Buffy and Willow.

†

"Willow!" came Xander's frantic shout. "We have to go! It's Giles!"

Willow looked away from Demetri, who, though he was growling at her in full vamp face, was still unable to move to retaliate. She hesitated, then looked back at the furious vampire. "Whoops, I guess time's up," she said in displeasure. "And with Slayer blood and vamp healing, you'll be as good as new in under a week. So I'd better do something more permanent before I go." With that, she made a rapid slashing movement with her hand, and deep cuts opened across his face, looking exactly like claw marks. "That's from Oz," she said, "because he couldn't do it himself."

She released the magic binding his movement, and he fell to the ground, unable to pursue her because of his leg. A few seconds later, Sophia reentered the room and raised her eyebrows at him. "Was it as fun as you thought it would be?" she asked, smirking.

"You knew how powerful she was, didn't you?" he spat, wiping blood from the gashes on his face.

"I'm surprised you didn't," she said with a scornful snort. "You're lucky you got off with just a broken leg and a ruined face."

"And why the hell don't you even have a scratch on you?" he asked grumpily.

"I don't pick fights unless I know I can win them," she said condescendingly. "And I don't underestimate my opponent. Now hold still, so I can set these bones."

†

Oz, Abigail, and Olivia looked around in surprise when everyone came back through the portal rather sooner than they had expected. Connor came first, supporting Giles, who was shaking violently and flinched under the bright lights in the living room.

"Where did Faith and Wood go?" asked Connor.

"Left to take the others to the airport so they can fly home—except Agatha. She lives in London, so they're dropping her off on the way," said Abigail, sounding thoroughly depressed.

"What happened?" asked Oz, staring at Giles.

"I think the thing in the Archive infected him," said Connor. Buffy, Angel, Xander, and Willow came through the portal then, and Buffy ran to Giles's side.

"Can you speak?" she asked him, looking as if she wouldn't be able to take much more of the people she loved being in danger in one day.

"The light," said Giles through gritted teeth, his eyes tightly closed. "It's too bright."

Xander hurried towards the light switch, but the moment his hand lifted to turn it off, Angel and Connor both shouted, "Don't touch it!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"That wound didn't activate until it went pitch black down there," Angel reminded him. "What do you think more darkness will do? The lights stay on."

"Oh, God," said Willow in a choked voice. Everyone looked at her. Her face was crumpled with anguish. "This is my fault. I got carried away. The lights—it was my fault." Oz made as though to go to her, but was prevented from leaving the sofa by his broken leg, and he fell back onto the cushions with a grimace.

"You're not the thing that infected him," said Connor bracingly. "But I think you're our best chance fighting it."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Physical attacks don't work against it, but magic might," he said. "We should hurry."

"Okay," began Buffy in an attempt at a confident, commanding voice, her gaze on Abigail. "You help Oz watch Giles." Abigail nodded, her eyes wide. "And we'll go fight this thing."

Abigail helped Connor lower Giles into a chair, as the two sofas were occupied by Oz, Dawn, and Renée, while Buffy pulled the edges of the portal to the abandoned Holborn platform closed, making a mental note to remind Dawn to lock it when she came to. While they were thus occupied, Willow approached Oz, her expression still anguished.

"I know why I couldn't heal you," she whispered so that nobody else would hear (Connor tactfully pretended that he was not the exception to this), tears welling in her eyes. Oz took her hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Why?" he asked, not because he wanted to know as much as because she obviously needed to tell him.

"I wanted revenge. I was too focused on my hatred of Demetri for doing that to you. The healing magic I've been using for the past year is white magic of the purest kind, and negative emotions like hatred block it."

Oz reached up to caress her face. "Remember what happened those times you were in danger?" Willow nodded tearfully. She would never forget the lengths to which he had always gone to keep her safe. Oz's expression was gravely serious. "I think you and I might need to work on our temper problems," he said.

Willow let out an unwilling giggle and gave him a slightly indignant poke on the arm. "As long as you promise to never get captured again."

"As you wish," he said. When she moved her hands towards his broken calf, however, he shook his head. "Save it for Giles." She bit her lip, but nodded.

†

The same party that had gone to fight the vampires, minus Giles, walked into the pantry and through Dawn's portal to the Lost Archive. Buffy was squeezing Angel's hand so tightly that it almost hurt. "Giles'll be okay," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and squeezing her hand back. She swallowed, but said nothing in reply.

When they reached the door at the end of the sloping tunnel, Connor looked inquiringly at Willow.

"Wait," she said. She closed her eyes and focused on Giles and how much she wanted to help him. She took a deep breath, then held up her closed hand and said, "Fiat lux." When she opened her hand again, what looked like a miniature white-gold firework leapt from it into the air. The light of it dazzled their eyes, and it hung over all five of them in a kind of dome.

"Wow," said Connor. Whatever misgivings he had once had against magic were certainly long gone now—though, of course, it also helped that he was now Connor Reilly, rather than Connor the Destroyer. Unconsciously holding his breath, he lifted the heavy beam away from the door and set it aside, then pushed the door open. Once they were all through it, he made sure to close it again. It wouldn't do to have the creature escape into London.

It took Buffy, Angel, Willow, and Xander several minutes to get past the initial wonder the Archive inspired. Afterwards, Connor led the way to where they had found the skeleton and then been attacked by the shadow beast. They all drew instinctively closer together when the skeleton came into view.

"What happened before?" Willow whispered.

"We saw the skeleton," said Connor. "And then we turned to go, and the demon thing was right there in front of us."

"Great," said Xander. "So, who wants to go out into the inordinately creepy darkness to be demon bait?"

"Hmm," said Willow, "I don't think we have to resort to that." She closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temples, muttering under her breath. The lights surrounding them grew brighter and brighter, then multiplied until what looked like a canopy of brilliant stars hovered around them. Many of these little balls of light soared high into the air and alighted upon the cobwebby chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. They continued to grow and brighten until there was barely a shadow to be found in the long undisturbed library.

The effect on what was already a magnificent place was awe-inspiring, but none of them paid attention to that. Almost as soon as the lights began to brighten, a wailing shriek of pain sounded from a nearby aisle. They exchanged glances, then hurried towards the source of the shrieking. In no time at all, they found their quarry, which was cowering, trying to seek nonexistent shelter from the light. Connor thought it looked a little smaller than it had before, and it also appeared to be slightly transparent.

When it saw them, it growled fiercely and sprang forward with the desperation of a cornered wild animal. They all yelled and tried to dive out of its path—except Willow, who simply held up one hand, palm out. Mid-pounce, the creature froze, claws extended and fangs still bared. Looking thoughtful, Willow walked towards it and then slowly circled it, examining it from every angle.

"This isn't a demon," she announced at last.

"What do you mean?" asked Buffy.

"Well, it's not normal, that's for sure," Willow qualified. "But demons have auras just like humans do. Aura-reading isn't exactly my area of expertise, but even I can tell that with this thing, it's like the shadowy stuff _is_ the aura, as well as the body."

"Okay," said Angel, "but what does that mean?"

"Hopefully, I'll be able to shed some more light on the subject," she said, suppressing a giggle at her own joke. She waved her hand again, and several of the lights hovering nearest to them zoomed towards the creature. As soon as they touched the beast's shadowy flesh and sank through, it fell to the ground, writhing and emitting a sound so terrible that all of them, Willow included, clapped their hands to their ears.

Buffy was worried that it was no longer bound by Willow's immobilizing magic, but it seemed to be too busy reacting to the lights that were now trapped within it to pay any of them the slightest attention. It writhed and shrieked in obvious agony, and then something very unexpected began to happen: its shape started to change. The creature shrank, its black features blurring and distorting, the light inside it now shining through in beams, until, abruptly, it went out.

There on the floor before them, her whole body shaking violently, was a woman. They all watched in surprise as she got slowly and jerkily to her feet, using the nearby bookcase for support. She was very tall, had long dark hair that cascaded down her back in waves, and she didn't appear to be entirely human. There was a luminous, pearly glow to her skin and her eyes were deep, piercing blue pools of molten glass. She was clothed in a long, elegant gown that was precisely the same color as her eyes, and the material was strange and shimmery, almost as if it had somehow been woven out of liquid. After taking a moment to compose herself, she looked directly at Willow.

"You released me," she said, panting slightly. Her voice echoed, as though there were two of her speaking at once. "I thank you."

"Who are you?" asked Willow.

"My name is Triennia," she said.

"Okay, I'm a little lost here," said Xander impatiently. "A minute ago, you could have been the Balrog's pet kitty, and now…what are you?"

"I am an Endless," she said. "An Immortal." Angel's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition at this, but he didn't interrupt. "I was cursed into that form eons ago by another of my kind, Bracchion, after I spurned his advances. Several centuries ago, after I brought much destruction to several small towns, I was trapped in the pages of a book by a powerful sorcerer." She bent down and picked up an open, dust-covered tome from the floor. "This one. The world was a safer place when I was in here. But I was read out again, and this has been my…lair, of sorts, ever since."

"I thought the Immortal didn't use magic," said Angel. Everyone looked at him.

"Ah, so you've met dear Bracchion, have you?" asked Triennia, pronouncing the name with biting disdain.

"Maybe. I never caught his name. We've had…disagreements in the past."

"What he did to me was not magic, but something much older and more elemental. It was manipulation of the most basic kind. I became Living Darkness, or at least encased in it and bound to it, and the only way to counteract it was—"

"Light," said Willow. Triennia nodded.

"So," said Xander, sounding deeply mistrustful, "if you remember all of the stuff that's happened while you were 'Living Darkness', doesn't that mean you were in control?"

"No," she said. "I was conscious, but powerless in my own body." A terrible sadness blanketed her features. Angel looked at her empathetically. He could relate to that rather well.

"Ahem," said Buffy, "I think we're forgetting about our other problem. Giles."

"The man I infected," said Triennia.

"Yeah, him," said Buffy impatiently. "So how do we get him uninfected? More pretty lights?"

"Light will keep the curse at bay, but there is no breaking it."

"What are you talking about?" asked Connor. "Willow just broke the curse on you! Why can't she break it on Giles?"

"My curse has not been broken, young one," said Triennia with a look of grim acceptance. "It never will be, unless Bracchion himself decides to free me of it. It has merely been disrupted, but it is as immortal as its caster. Given the opportunity, it will consume me again. Your Giles may be more fortunate than I, however. The curse has not yet taken him fully. It may be that you will be able to spare him the worst of it, but you must act quickly."

†

They returned to the apartment without Triennia, who declined their invitation to accompany them in favor of staying in the Archive (Willow made sure her lights would stay on for a good long while before leaving her there). When Willow applied her light spell to Giles's cursed wound, Buffy and Connor both had to hold him still to prevent him from destroying Faith and Wood's living room with his violent twitching and flailing. They waited with bated breath until the seizure finally subsided. The claw wounds on his arm had closed and scarred, and there was no longer any visible trace of the darkness that had been creeping across his skin.

"Giles?" asked Buffy tentatively.

"I'm not sure I'm quite as fond of that library as I was before," he said wearily.

Buffy let out an unintelligible squeaky sound and threw her arms around him, sobs wracking her whole body. "I thought we were going to lose you, and right after we nearly lost Angel, Oz, and Renée."

Giles received many more hugs, and Willow finally succeeded in healing Oz's leg, after which he held her while she cried relieved tears into his shoulder. Abigail and Olivia stood slightly apart from all of this, looking unsure of what to do with themselves. Buffy walked up to them with a kind smile on her face.

"What's going to happen to us?" asked Abigail, clutching her sister's hand tightly.

"Do you have any family?" asked Buffy gently.

Abigail shook her head and swallowed painfully.

"Then you can stay with us, if you want to. We can take care of you, and we can train you so you'll be able to fight back against vampires the next time you meet them."

"Livvy too?" asked Abigail, moving slightly closer to Olivia, as if wanting to shield her from view.

"Not until she's older," said Buffy. "Much older."

"Good," said Abigail firmly. "As for me, I want to learn how to fight those evil tossers."

"Um, guys?" came Willow's voice unexpectedly. Everyone turned to look at her. She was holding her cell phone to her ear, looking aghast.

"What is it?" asked Buffy.

"The Coven's been trying to reach me for the past couple of hours. I've had my phone off since we left L.A., though, so I didn't notice until now." She looked at Buffy. "They think they've found the thing you and all the other Slayers have been dreaming about. We have to go, now."

"What's going on?" asked Xander.

"A bunch of demons are doing some kind of big ritual up in Wales. We have to stop it before midnight." They all looked at the clock. It was eleven-thirty.

"What'll happen if we miss the deadline?" asked Angel apprehensively.

"The Old One they worship will be resurrected," said Willow. The silence that followed was deafening, but brief. While it lasted, Angel thought of Illyria and what it had cost to resurrect her, but doubted very much that they'd be able to make an ally out of this Old One as they had ultimately done with the former God-King.

"How do we stop it?" asked Connor.

"And how come the Coven didn't do that already?" added Xander.

"They can't," said Willow. "It's protected against magical interference. This is a job for brute force."

"Are we going to need backup?" asked Buffy.

"It wouldn't hurt," said Willow. Buffy nodded, then darted into the kitchen and out of sight without another word. Everyone else exchanged slightly bewildered glances, but she returned moments later wielding the Scythe and followed by a dozen Slayers from the Hyperion, who were all slightly confused to suddenly be in an apartment in London, but carried weapons and looked eager to help.

"Got enough magic left to teleport us there?" asked Buffy.

"Yeah," said Willow uncertainly. "But the teleportation sickness is going to be really bad for all of you. Are you sure…?"

"There's no other way," said Buffy. "And there's no time." Willow nodded and stood up. She took four of them at a time, until only Oz and Giles remained, along with Abigail, Olivia, and the still unconscious Dawn and Renée. Though they had been healed, Oz and Giles were too weak to be participating in any more battles that day.

†

The teleportation sickness was indeed terrible for all of Willow's passengers. Only a few of them managed not to vomit, and it was several minutes before they were able to stand up. After that, they were off, urgency overcoming the last vestiges of nausea and fatigue.

The ritual site was very easy to find. The fire blazing at the center of it was a bit of a giveaway, and even without that, the chanting was audible from a distance of at least a hundred yards. Fortunately for the good guys, the demons doing the chanting were small and scrawny, and once they were there, they cut them down with almost disappointing ease, while Willow magically doused the fire and broke the many symbols and talismans arrayed around it. It was all over in minutes.

When they got back to Faith and Wood's apartment, both occupants had returned, having successfully seen Agatha home and Joselyn and Catherine to the airport. Faith was furious to discover that she'd missed the second battle in one day, but, for the most part, everyone was just glad to have it all behind them.

"Gee," said Buffy humorlessly to Angel, Willow, and Oz, "how dare we try to have nice, peaceful, happy honeymoons, right? You, Oz, and Renée get captured and wounded. Giles gets attacked by a cursed Immortal, and a bunch of demons try to bring back an Old One."

"When the other shoe drops for us, it _really_ drops," Willow agreed.

†

"Xander?" asked Renée. It was the next morning. Though they intended to fly back to L.A. properly so as to keep the number of stamps in their passports in order, Buffy, Angel, Willow, and Oz had cheated and gone through Dawn's portal to the Hyperion to sleep in their own beds for the night, but Xander had stayed, not wanting to leave until his girlfriend was awake.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, covering one of her hands with his.

"Not bad," she said. She wouldn't meet his eye. "But, erm, I dinnae think I'll be going back to Los Angeles with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to go back to my parents' place," she clarified.

"Are you saying…is this goodbye?" asked Xander with a hard swallow, feeling his insides turn to ice.

Renée looked thoroughly miserable. "No. Not forever. I just…I need some time. It isnae because of you, I swear. You got me out of that place, and I cannae tell you how grateful I am for that, but…if something like that happens again…I need to be with my family first."

Xander nodded. He wanted to tell her that he'd never let anything like that happen to her again, but the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn't help thinking that if he had been a bit quicker on the uptake, he could have prevented her capture, so how was he supposed to promise that he'd do better next time? And he couldn't promise there wouldn't be a next time, either. Renée was a Slayer who fiercely honored her calling as such. There would always be some risk in that, no matter what, and she already had two scars to prove it.

That day on the plane back to California, with a stranger sitting next to him in Renée's seat while Buffy and Angel, Willow and Oz, and Giles, Connor, and Dawn sat together in different rows, Xander had never felt more powerless or alone.

* * *

Sophia and Demetri are officially my favorite OCs. Hence not killing them. The way I view Sophia's reasonable, non-confrontational attitude is that she is Lawful Evil, whereas Demetri is Chaotic Evil. Sophia knows how to play everything to her advantage, shows respect where respect is due, and isn't burdened with an overblown ego, so she doesn't make careless mistakes out of wounded pride. Demetri likes causing pain a little too much to worry about the consequences his actions might have-and he also thinks he's untouchable. He probably would have ticked off one person too many for brutally torturing their friends and gotten himself killed centuries before this if Sophia hadn't been holding his leash. And then there's Triennia. She's another one from the story I pulled Erebus and Kaida from, and she won't be the last, since I might well never fix that story's hopelessly convoluted and redundant plot, which means this might be the only chance for these characters to get out of my head and stretch their legs. I love Willow's emotional journey in this. It wouldn't have been any fun at all if she never had even a partial relapse into dark magic, and this served that purpose well. Giles being in danger from something she helped cause would affect her powerfully, because she nearly killed him the last time she went dark. Anyway, remember that in my reality, Buffy never dated the Immortal, but Angel still went to Rome to resolve that demon Mafia dispute thing and distantly interacted with him. Since we never found out anything about the Immortal except that he doesn't use magic, his moral alignment is ambiguous, and he's a womanizer, I wanted to play with that a little. From what Triennia said about him, it's a reasonable assumption to say that her rejection of him set off the womanizing, because after being rejected by her, he'd want to prove that he can get girls. Also, the resolution of the dreams and ominous signs...yeah, that plotline kinda got the short straw of the three plotlines in the episode. Sorry about that. Also, more emotional turmoil for Xander. *rubs hands together diabolically* And now everyone's finally going back to L.A. That makes a happy me, because it means less research, but I've had fun playing with everyone in Europe, and, what with Dawn's doorways, future adventures there will be much easier to pull off (not to mention interactions with Faith and Wood).


	10. 9x10: Life As Unusual

Episode 10: Life As Unusual

Guest Starring (sort of): Ryan Cartwright (Mr. Vincent Nigel-Murray from _Bones_) as Nigel,

John Francis Daley (Sweets from _Bones_) as Leonard,

and

Jewel Staite (Kaylee from _Firefly_ and _Serenity_) as Tahn

†

Saturday, August 28, 2004

"So," said a skinny, dark-haired young Englishman by the name of Nigel, "you say you've found the, erm, 'Lost Archive' of the original Watchers' Council, which could quite handily put all other libraries pertaining to demons and the supernatural to shame, there's a mystical doorway leading directly to it from this hotel, and you…_don't_ want us to go there immediately?" His expression of incredulous confusion was shared by his fellow Watchers-in-training. "Wouldn't an archive like that be, by definition, full of precisely the type of information we're supposed to be learning?"

"I would tend to agree with Nigel," said Christian quickly. Roger, Gage, Avery, Tristan, Phineas, and Leonard all clamored to add their assent as well.

Giles held up a hand for silence, which fell instantly (one of the less obnoxious side-effects of being surrounded by competitive sycophants), and considered them for a long moment. He had to admit that it really was rather silly. The only reason he wasn't as keen to explore the Archive as all of his trainee Watchers put together was the thought of what had happened to him the last time he was there. He knew perfectly well that the shadow beast that had attacked and infected him had been restored to her true form by Willow, but he still felt a certain aversion towards the place.

However, being confronted now by the logic of his pupils, he decided he might as well face his fears. Since the journey back to Los Angeles the week before, Willow had returned to the Archive through Dawn's doorway and reinforced her light-summoning spell, giving it the lifespan of an extremely durable light bulb. As a result, he would be in no real danger of reactivating the infection there. It would be quite safe.

"Oh, very well," he said in resignation.

"Excellent!" said Roger gleefully.

Giles led the way into the Hyperion's office, where he pulled back the curtain that had been hung over Dawn's doorway and stepped into the tunnel leading to the Archive. The others rushed past him then, their eagerness to get at all of those books overcoming their desire to impress him with displays of absolute subordination. He rolled his eyes. A second later, he felt a tugging sensation at the side of his jacket. Looking down, he saw Livvy.

"Oh, hello," he said, smiling kindly at her. She and Abigail had taken Buffy up on her offer and found a new home in the Hyperion, and everyone there was doing their part to make the orphaned sisters feel welcome. Despite everything they had been through, they were already starting to adjust. Possibly because they had a homeland in common with him, they had particularly taken to Giles, whose years of practice acting as a surrogate father to Buffy and Dawn enabled him to open his heart to them with ease and assume the paternal role once more.

"Can I come with you too, Mr. Giles?" asked the six-year-old hopefully.

"Of course," he said, holding out a hand. She smiled and took it, and they followed the others down the tunnel. It came as little surprise that the Watchers-in-training were still frozen just inside the door at the end of it, not having recovered yet from the profound effect of the Archive. Even Giles required several seconds to remember how to breathe properly, which meant that Livvy was the one to galvanize them all into motion.

"Are we just going to stand around all day?" she asked, confused. The Watchers-in-training jumped and scurried off in different directions to start looking through the Archive's innumerable books. Giles chuckled and walked with Livvy down to the ground floor. It seemed Willow had also done something about the thick blanket of dust that had coated every surface the only time he'd been in the Archive, for everything was now spotless, the polished tile floor aglow with the reflection of the thousands of little balls of light that hung in the air above the shelves. Livvy ran ahead of him down the aisle, trying to jump on the golden reflections in the floor.

"I'm glad to see I didn't frighten you away from this place indefinitely," said a deep, echoing female voice behind him. Giles turned around and saw Triennia, if he remembered the name correctly from what Willow had told him, standing there with a somber expression on her face. "I feel I owe you an apology."

"Thank you," said Giles, unconsciously running a hand over the place on his arm that bore the scar from the shadow beast's attack. "But I don't think it's necessary. You were not in control of your actions at the time."

"That may be, but I regret it all the same. Mine was not a fate I wished to inflict upon anyone else."

"It's quite all right, I assure you."

Just then, Leonard, a tall, thin young man with a boyish face and curly black hair, entered their aisle and, upon catching sight of Triennia, stopped dead. "Wow," he said breathlessly, a dull flush rising up his cheeks. "Uh, didn't expect—hi, I'm Leonard—Leo. You can call me Leo. What's your name?"

"Triennia," she replied shortly, sparing him a brief, appraising glance before gliding past him out of the aisle.

"I doubt you'll have much luck chatting her up," said Giles with an amused smirk as he began to examine the spines of the books on the shelves nearest him. "She is, after all, quite a few thousand years out of your league."

†

"So, first night of the full moon tonight," said Willow tentatively. She and Oz were curled up together in bed, cozily dragging out the time until they'd have to get up. According to the alarm clock they rarely used, it was fast approaching midday, but Oz's gig had run late the previous night, and it had been well into the early hours of the morning before they finally got to sleep. And besides, they'd rationalized, it was the weekend. Laziness was pretty much expected.

"Yeah," said Oz, apparently deep in thought as he stroked her hair. "I think I'll patrol with Alex's squad."

"You could," said Willow, drawing random patterns across his chest with her fingers. "Or…."

"Or what?" he asked, one eyebrow slightly arched.

Willow shifted so she could look into his face more easily, not really sure how to approach this subject. "Well, you learned how to control your wolf."

"It's not really control, so much as balance," he said.

"Right, but—what I mean is, it was something you _learned_."

"I guess."

"So…do you think you could teach it?"

"I dunno. Maybe." He frowned and looked at her shrewdly. "This is about Angel's ex." He knew about Nina, but as he wasn't particularly willing to risk setting off a repeat of what had happened with Veruca, he had so far gone out of his way to avoid meeting the other werewolf.

Willow nodded, looking back down at her fingers. "I'll admit that I wasn't too thrilled when Buffy told me about her, but I've talked to her. She's not like Veruca. She's really nice, and I can tell that part of her is scared of what she is. Even though it's kind of an awkward situation for her because of Buffy and Angel, she still comes here every month to get locked in a cage. I think she'd like the idea that she might not have to keep doing that for the rest of her life."

"I know I wouldn't have said no to getting some help back in those first few years," said Oz.

"That's why I thought you'd be interested in helping Nina," said Willow eagerly. "I'm not sure if it'll work, though. Angel says she's a different breed of werewolf than you are, so maybe the rules are different too, but it's worth a shot, right?"

"You've really been putting a lot of thought into this, haven't you?" he asked, his expression tender. Despite his own minor apprehensions about this plan, he was awed by Willow's capacity to feel so much compassion for someone she could easily have despised on principle.

"You know, if you find enough other werewolves, you could start a Lycanthropes Anonymous," she said brightly.

Oz chuckled and pulled her to him for a deep, passion-filled kiss.

†

"Are you _sure_ you'll be okay in Palo Alto again this semester?" asked Buffy anxiously. "Because, I mean, you can stay here if you want. You don't have to stay with the Quinns again. You could just go to Hemery with all of the high school age Slayers at the hotel…."

Dawn shot her an annoyed look. She and Connor would be catching a bus back in less than an hour. They'd already said goodbye to everyone else, and Dawn really didn't want to drag it out even more. "I've only got one semester left, and I'm _not_ switching schools again. The Quinns are cool, and I think I need to be at PALY anyway to keep an eye on Kaida so she doesn't set anything else on fire. I was okay for all of last year with you more than two thousand miles away. I think I can handle myself," she said. "Besides, now that you're in L.A., we'll be able to visit each other a lot more often."

"And we will," said Buffy. "At least twice a month."

"Sounds good," said Dawn a little impatiently. "But we should really get going."

"Okay," said Buffy. She hesitated for a moment, then hugged her sister tightly. Dawn did the best she could to reciprocate, but it was difficult, given that she had a backpack over one shoulder and a heavy duffel bag in her arms. "I love you, Dawn."

"I love you too, Buffy," said Dawn, her irritation melting slightly.

A couple of yards away, Angel and Connor were also exchanging farewells. "Don't get chained up in another abandoned subway station while I'm gone, okay?" said Connor, grinning.

"I'll try not to," said Angel. Becoming more serious, he put a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Hey, study hard, all right? And this probably goes without saying," he glanced at Buffy, then looked back at his son, "but take care of Dawn."

"I will." They hugged, and then Connor walked over to Dawn, relieved her of the bulky duffel bag, and hoisted it over his own shoulder. They waved to Buffy and Angel, who had moved to stand beside each other, then departed the hotel hand in hand.

"Angel, Buffy," came a voice from behind them. They turned to see Gunn approaching them with a Post-it note in one hand. Even though it had been months, Angel was still having a hard time getting used to the scars crisscrossing Gunn's skin and the way he walked with a slight limp. Only recently had Gunn recovered from his injuries to the point where he could resume actively pursuing and fighting demons. After months of being able to help only by using the vast stores of legal knowledge he had retained from his Wolfram and Hart sponsored brain boost to point the less incapacitated fighters in the direction of as many of the law firm's former clients as possible, he was almost desperate to reenter the fray himself.

"Do we have a case?" asked Angel. Even though the main focus of the hotel's operations was now the training of new Slayers and Watchers, Angel Investigations was still an active business.

"Just got calls from three different houses in the same neighborhood over in Silver Lake about how they've got glowing green slime coming from their pipes instead of water," said Gunn. He chuckled. "First guy already called in a plumber, third guy asked if we knew how to get in touch with the Ghostbusters. I figure some basic recon first and then we can call for backup if we need it."

"Great!" said Buffy cheerfully. "I'll go get my Proton Pack and rubber boots." With that, she skipped off up the main staircase.

"There was another movie I haven't seen somewhere in that, wasn't there?" asked Angel as he watched her go.

"Yep," said Gunn. "Man, I hope this case doesn't end with me covered in demon gunk again."

"Why, you got a hot date later?" asked Angel half-jokingly.

"Now, see, I don't know," said Gunn seriously. "It's less of a date than a meeting to decide whether or not we're gonna date."

"Oh. Who with?"

"Anne."

"And are you hoping to date, or not date?"

"I've been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out for months," said Gunn, shaking his head. "We've been friends going on six years now, and that's all it was, but then there was this one day when I was in the hospital." His eyes went unfocused and a slow smile began to spread across his face. "I woke up, and Annie was there, sleeping. Fell asleep waiting for me to wake me up, I guess, but her hand was still on mine, and it just felt like…that was how it's supposed to be."

"So you finally asked her out?"

"I was trying to get the words out when she asked me," said Gunn, laughing.

"I hope it works out for you both," said Angel.

"Yeah. Me too."

After a few seconds of silence during which they both watched the place at the top of the stairs where Buffy would reappear, Angel remembered something he'd been meaning to ask Gunn since getting back from Europe. "Any word from Illyria lately?"

"She called last week from somewhere in Indiana. Don't know what makes her think she'll find Spike there, but I ain't gonna be the one to tell her to stop her little obsessive mission."

Angel's brow furrowed. "I thought we would've heard something from Spike by now. Not that dropping off the map for a few months at a time is something he's never done before."

"Yeah, 'cause you _really_ miss having him around," said Gunn. Dropping the sarcasm, he went on, "You two couldn't stand each other and you're the one who ended up with the pulse _and_ the girl. Least you can do is let him lick his wounds on his own terms."

†

By the time the sun began dipping down towards the western horizon, Buffy, Angel, and Gunn had returned from the neighborhood in Silver Lake. They had discovered the cause of the sludgy substance to be a pack of man-eating amphibious demons that had nested in the water treatment plant that supplied the water to that area of the city. One basic slice and dice job later, and the water treatment plant was once again a demon-free zone.

After taking thorough showers and changing their clothes, Buffy casually supervised several sparring matches taking place in the lobby while Angel worked at cleaning the now slime-encrusted weapons they had used earlier (Gunn had gone back to his apartment to get cleaned up before his non-date with Anne), and he had almost finished when they were surprised by Faith and Wood emerging from the office.

"We're having a boy!" Faith announced loudly with a huge grin on her face before anyone could say hello. Buffy and several of the Slayers she was working with let out high-pitched shrieks of delight.

"Congratulations," said Angel, walking over to shake their hands.

"Oh, wow," said Buffy, "did you just find out?"

"Yesterday," said Wood proudly.

"Ultrasound gel is the weirdest stuff," said Faith, grimacing.

"Weirder than demon goo? Because we've had plenty of that today," said Buffy, smirking.

†

About half an hour before sunset, the lobby was empty except for Willow and Oz. Faith and Wood had gone back through the portal to their London apartment and Buffy had finished her daily training session with the younger Slayers and then disappeared with Angel into their room upstairs, most likely not to be seen again until sometime the next day.

They had only been waiting a few minutes when the doors opened and Nina Ash walked in. Willow jumped up at once and hurried towards her with a bright smile on her face while Oz followed warily, bracing himself to combat any instinctive animal attraction that might arise.

"Hi, Nina," said Willow, sticking out her hand.

Nina shook it uncertainly. "Oh, hi. Uh, Willow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is something going on?" asked Nina. "Because I'm just here to use the cage…."

"Oh, I know," said Willow reassuringly. "It's just, before you go down there, I thought you might like to meet my husband."

Right on cue, Oz finally reached them. "Oz," he said, "resident werewolf, at your service." Like Willow, he raised a hand to shake Nina's. The instant their skin made contact, however, they both let go and recoiled violently. Where the second before, Nina had been regarding him with hopeful interest, obviously happy to meet someone she could relate to about the most challenging aspect of her life, she now stared at him with confusion and dislike—emotions that were mirrored on Oz's face.

"Uh, what just happened?" asked Willow, bewildered.

"That's what I'd like to know," said Nina jerkily, her eyes still fixed on Oz.

"No idea," said Oz through gritted teeth, taking several hasty steps back from Nina, as if afraid of what he might do otherwise. "Angel said she was a different breed from me, right?"

"Yeah," said Willow slowly. Looking from one to the other, she could practically see, prowling behind their eyes, two wolves with fur bristled, ears flat against skulls, and fangs bared. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Maybe that means you two are natural enemies or something? Like, uh, members of rival packs?"

"I think you might be right about that," said Nina. She closed her eyes tightly and wrinkled her nose. "God, what is that smell?" She opened her eyes again to find Oz looking at her with an equally nauseated expression. "Oh. Part of the 'rival packs' thing?"

"Probably," said Oz. He felt frustrated. As far as he had come, this instinctive dislike was proving just as difficult to fight off as the attraction for Veruca had been. Before he could dwell on this for too long, though, an idea struck him. "Okay," he said. "I think I know what to do for lesson one."

"Lesson one?" repeated Nina.

"Oz is going to try to teach you how to find balance between yourself and the, uh, inner beast," said Willow. "It'll take a while—at least, it did for him—, but if it works, you'll be able to still be you when you transform, like Oz does. Maybe even control _when_ you transform."

"Really?" Hope dominated everything in her expression for a second, before being eclipsed by animosity once more. "Okay, that's great, but how is this supposed to work when half of me wants to rip his throat out and the other half is busy stopping it?"

"That's where lesson one would come in," said Oz. "Overcoming the throat-ripping impulse." His nostrils flared as he said it. "You should get in the cage. Moon'll be up any minute."

Nina nodded and hurried across the lobby towards the door to the basement, giving Oz a very wide berth as she went.

The doors opened again as soon as she was gone, and in came Xander, whose arms were full of cardboard tubes containing an assortment of building plans he needed to look over before returning to work on Monday. Looking from Willow, who seemed a little distressed, to Oz, who was leaning down with his hands on his knees, taking deep, calming breaths, he halted in his tracks. "Uh, do I even want to know?" he asked.

"Not really," said Oz darkly.

†

Saturday, October 30, 2004

Xander sat reading the morning newspaper while eating his way steadily through a large plate of slightly overcooked bacon, eggs, and hash browns in preparation for leaving for work at Nabbit Industries in half an hour. Hearing footsteps, he lowered his newspaper in time to see Angel enter the spacious kitchen, barefoot and dressed in an undershirt and sweatpants. "Whoa. What chewed you up and spat you out?" asked Xander. Angel looked thoroughly sleep-rumpled and about as friendly as the average grizzly bear upon being woken early from hibernation. "I'm very much not getting the morning person vibe."

Angel glowered groggily at him. "You try being nocturnal for two and a half centuries and then do a one-eighty with your sleeping pattern, and see how much of a morning person you are in the first year," he grumbled.

"I'll pass," said Xander. "So, got your costume ready for the party tonight?"

"Yeah," said Angel shortly. In a completely transparent attempt to make regulars out of the inhabitants of the Hyperion, Willy was throwing a Halloween party at his club, to which he had invited everyone at the hotel. The theory was that his normal clientele of demons of questionable moral alignment wouldn't be at the club on Halloween anyway, so he wouldn't put his usual business in jeopardy by bringing in a crowd of Slayers and their allies. With the party being held on the thirtieth rather than the thirty-first, however, that plan was unlikely to come to fruition the way he'd hoped.

Xander watched in amusement over his breakfast as Angel continued to stumble around the kitchen. After about a minute of this, he finally gave up. "Where's the coffee?" he asked. He and Buffy had finished off their stash of it up in their suite the morning before.

Xander fought to suppress an evil grin. "There isn't any."

"What?" said Angel crossly. "Why not?"

"Simple. Dozens of caffeinated teenage girls with super strength are not the way to start the day."

Angel banged his head against the fridge in frustration.

Xander continued, mixing a teasing tone with biting frostiness in the way only he could, "Where's Buffy? I'm sure she'd be happy to, uh, wake you up."

Angel's first instinct was to growl—not that doing so would be anywhere near as intimidating as it would have been seven months before, but then he realized that Xander actually had a point. "I hadn't thought of that," he said brightly. "Thanks!" He turned and headed for the swinging double doors, smirking, and Xander thunked his head down next to his plate and groaned. He hadn't intended for his sarcasm to backfire like that.

Willow entered and exchanged friendly greetings with Angel on her way in for breakfast (she and Oz having exhausted the supply of breakfast foods in their own suite as well), then frowned when she saw Xander. "What's up?" she asked.

"I hate my life," he said into the table.

Her expression became both sympathetic and stern. "Don't say that," she said. "It's not as bad as you think. You've got a great job and everyone here likes you."

Xander gave a noncommittal grunt in acknowledgement of her words. Slowly, he pulled his head back off the table and resumed his breakfast, still feeling sour, and no longer having any interest in the newspaper. The job and everyone liking him were all very well, but neither of those things had much to do with his mood. After two months, Renée was still in Scotland with her family, and Xander missed her so much that it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed hearing her voice, seeing the barely visible blush she thought he didn't notice flaring beneath her dark skin when he kissed her, acting out cheesy kung-fu movies with her when they sparred, working on the comic with her, arguing with her about which superhero was better, and a thousand other completely dorky things he never thought would score him points with a girl.

He hadn't realized how much his life had become filled with her until she was no longer in it. What made it all infinitely worse was that he was constantly surrounded by happy couples. He never thought he'd be spending extra time at work to get away from his best friends—not that Buffy and Willow seemed to notice. They'd been sympathetic when Renée decided to stay in Scotland, of course, but whenever their respective husbands were in the room, it was like nothing else existed to them. Even when Angel and Oz weren't around, Buffy and Willow were so glowingly happy that they rarely noticed that Xander's smiles were forced.

As if to illustrate this point, Oz chose that moment to join them in the kitchen. Willow gave a delighted squeal about how they could have breakfast together—something that didn't usually happen, given Oz's sleeping habits. They picked out the food items they wanted and departed.

Xander had almost finished eating when Giles came in to prepare his morning tea before heading through the portal to the Archive, as had become his daily ritual. There was nothing wrong with the kitchen in his room, per se, but he preferred the spaciousness of the main kitchen—particularly in the morning, when it was devoid of chattering Slayers and endlessly inquisitive Watchers-in-training.

"What's up, G-man?" asked Xander without enthusiasm.

"Good morning, Xander," Giles replied as he retrieved his teapot from a cupboard. "It may be my years getting to me, but I seem to recall a previous conversation in the course of which I expressly requested that you not call me that." Xander shrugged and stood up, but didn't go anywhere. "Did you want something?" asked Giles, now filling the teapot with water from the sink.

"Just to get away from all the newlyweds around here," said Xander grumpily.

Giles chuckled knowingly. The same motivation was part of what had driven him to spend so much time in the Archive.

"I mean," Xander went on in aggravated tones, "I don't want to say they're being _gross_, but…well, yeah. I'm starting to think that married couples usually live on their own as society's way of quarantining them until they can be normal around everyone else again. At least Faith and Wood are in England most of the time."

†

"Are you finished getting ready?" asked Angel for at least the fifth time as he waited for Buffy to emerge from the bathroom.

"Almost," she called sweetly through the door.

Forcing himself not to ask her what was taking so long or why she wouldn't let him help her get her costume on or tell her that everyone else would leave without them if she didn't hurry, he walked over to the mirror. He was dressed in the fashion of upper middle class Irishmen of the mid-seventeen hundreds, complete with a long wig the same color as his hair, which he had tied back in a ponytail. It was a little surreal how closely his reflection currently matched what it had looked like the final time he had seen it for two and a half centuries. Buffy hadn't told him why she wanted him to dress up like this, but he suspected that it had something to do with her own costume, about which she had told him absolutely nothing.

"Okay, I'm done," said Buffy. Angel turned, idly tugging at his intricately knotted cravat—even though he'd grown up wearing clothes like these, styles had changed and it had been a very long time since he'd worn anything so constrictive. The bathroom door opened and Buffy emerged at last. Angel's mouth fell open in shock. With her curled hair framing her face and piled on the back of her head, cheeks and lips brightly rouged, and clothing consisting of a rather low-cut, shoulder-baring white chemise, black corset, and billowing, slightly tattered forest green skirt, she was an almost perfect replica of the sort of women he had encountered in taverns during the debauchery-filled later years of his life in Ireland.

"Wh-why…?" he began in a croak, but she cut across him with a rather wicked smile.

"Oh, but don't you remember?" she asked. "It _was_ your idea."

Angel opened his mouth to protest, quite certain that he had never asked her to dress like this, but then froze as comprehension dawned. "That's not fair! That was the me from seventeen fifty-three! I've never thought of you as a tavern wench when my memory was intact!"

"Hey," said Buffy sternly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the laughter she was struggling to suppress, "I think you're forgetting your accent, _Liam_."

Deciding it would be easier to just let her have her fun—for now, at least—, he held out his arm. "Might I 'ave the honor of escortin' the lady downstairs to join the party?"

†

"What are you supposed to be?" asked Leonard, who was wearing large round glasses, a red and white striped sweater, and a matching puffball hat.

"A Browncoat," said Xander. When Leonard responded with a blank look, he sighed and walked away, passing a small flock of Hogwarts students, Link and Zelda, Mr. Spock, and a Sith Lord as he sought out Willow and Oz. This costume wasn't nearly as fun as it would have been with Renée there, he thought dejectedly. After a moment of fruitless searching (during which his costume received many more puzzled reactions), he finally spotted his quarries over by the pillar at the base of the stairs. At first glance, Oz didn't appear to be wearing a costume, but then Xander noticed his shirt, which bore the legend "Nudist on Strike" in large letters. Willow's costume was a little more noticeable.

"Whoa there, Wil, what's that all about?" he asked, alarmed.

"Revenge," she said cheerfully. It was Xander's turn to look puzzled. "You'll see," she said. "Hey, Laurel!" she called loudly, having seen her in the crowd. "Come over here! They'll be down any minute!"

†

Angel soon discovered that this would not be quite as simple as merely playing along. When he and Buffy reached the lobby, it was to find that Laurel and Willow, targets two and three of Liam's unwitting and unwelcome advances in May, were in on it as well. Both were wearing costumes distinguishable from Buffy's only by their different color schemes, though Laurel's seemed to have veered off slightly into pirate wench territory. Like Buffy's, their ensembles were completed by mischievous grins.

"How'd we do on the outfits, guv'nor?" Laurel shouted at him in an impressive false accent over the noise of the chattering crowd of costume-clad Slayers and Watchers-in-training.

Instead of answering her, Angel turned a stony gaze on his wife. "Very funny," he said flatly.

"Oh, come _on_. You seriously didn't see this coming?" said Buffy, rolling her eyes. Like Laurel, she then put on her best Cockney accent and continued cheekily, "Now, then, we'd best get a move on, hadn't we, dear? Wouldn't want to be late for the party."

"No," said Angel, re-adopting his old Irish brogue with pained resignation. "Wouldn't want that."

†

Several back and forth trips with Oz's van (which was currently impersonating the Mystery Machine) later, and they were all at The Lair, which had been elaborately decorated for the holiday. The band playing was one that frequented the club as often as Illogical Stop Sign had in recent months, but tonight they were mixing it up by substituting spooky organ music for their regular keyboard pieces.

"You sure know how to throw a party," Buffy told Willy appreciatively, feeling much friendlier towards the weaselly barman than she usually did.

"Oh, no, it was all Tahn," said Willy, pointing into the crowd where the lavender-skinned demon girl was happily dancing with the Watcher-in-training dressed as Mr. Spock. "Usually I close up around Halloween. Nobody comes. She thought I was throwing out a lot of business, so I let her set this up."

"I'll be sure to thank her when I get the chance," said Buffy, looking at the energetic partygoers on the dance floor. "They're loving this. But, just so you know, any of those girls ends up even a little bit drunk, we're going to have a talk." Her expression made it perfectly clear that it would be a very nonverbal talk from which he would not recover for at least two weeks.

"No problem!" he said hastily, holding up his hands. Buffy smiled brilliantly at him, then disappeared into the crowd in search of Angel, who was undoubtedly skulking in some dark corner to avoid the group of very silly young Slayers who kept trying to dance with him because they thought he looked like Mr. Darcy. As she had expected, she found him lurking behind a pillar, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Having fun?" she asked over the loud, throbbing beat of the music. He looked at her with something between a pout and a scowl, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, seizing his hands and dragging him out of his hiding place, "Dawn and Connor just got here."

She led him over to one of the tables at the edge of the dance floor where Dawn, dressed as Rogue (complete with the signature white streak in her hair), and Connor, dressed as Luke Skywalker, were sitting, drinking punch, and staring intently into the crowd. "There he is!" cried Dawn suddenly, pointing. "I found Waldo! Oh, wait, now he's gone again."

"Hey Buffy, Angel," said Connor. He grinned. "Nice costumes."

"You too," said Buffy, staring in particular at the very detailed costume her sister was wearing. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh, I found it in my closet at the Quinns' house," said Dawn, looking down at her form-fitting yellow and green jumpsuit. "I think it used to be Isabelle's sister's—I mean, it was her room before she went to college. Izzy said I could borrow it, since it doesn't fit her." She looked up at Angel, who seemed to be attempting to hide behind Buffy—though, as he was close to a head taller than her and much broader, he was having little success. "Has anyone told you how much you look like Mr. Darcy in that?"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he burst out irritably. "This is authentic attire for an upper-middle class Irishman from the seventeen-fifties. It's completely different from what wealthy Regency Era English gentlemen wore."

"I take it back," said Dawn, eyes wide in alarm. Beside her, Buffy was fighting to hold in a fit of giggles in response to Angel's outburst.

"Hey, how good's your James Earl Jones impression?" asked Connor, following the movements of the trainee Watcher dressed as a Sith Lord with narrowed eyes, his hand straying towards the blue toy lightsaber hanging from his belt.

"Uh, I don't know," said Angel, wondering why this was relevant, and now mostly focused on debating whether or not to try and persuade Buffy to leave the party early with him. She was obviously having a lot of fun messing with his head, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve that rarely failed to turn her into putty in his hands.

"Can you say 'Luke, I am your father'?"

"What? Why? Your name isn't Luke." Angel looked apprehensively at Buffy and Dawn. "There wasn't another memory spell, was there?"

Dawn giggled while Connor stared at his father in open-mouthed amazement, before rounding on Buffy. "I thought you said you were going to make him watch all of the classic movies!" he said, looking at her in accusation.

"What? I am!" she protested indignantly. "But there are lots of them. We haven't gotten to _Star Wars _yet."

"It'll be all your fault if he never learns about modern pop culture, you know," said Dawn, struggling to keep her face straight.

Annoyed that they all seemed to have found yet another way to make fun of him, Angel decided that he'd had enough. He leaned closer to Buffy until his lips brushed against her ear, whispering so quietly that even Connor, with his super-hearing, wouldn't be able to make out the words. Buffy's cheeks were already so red from the rouge she'd dabbed onto them for her costume that no change in color was visible, but the heat suddenly radiating from her face told Angel that he'd achieved his goal. With a roguish smirk of which his tavern-going, two-and-a-half-centuries younger self would have been proud, he slipped an arm around her waist and led her away from the table and towards the exit, leaving Rogue and Luke Skywalker to exchange half amused, half revolted looks.

†

The plan had been to hail a cab as soon as they were outside the club, but Buffy had decided that returning to the hotel could wait until later, and pulled Angel into the alley instead. "Is this…how you treat all tavern wenches?" she panted, very distracted by the trail of kisses he was leaving on her throat.

"Only the ones I marry," he replied.

"Good answer," she said, tugging him back up so she could attack his lips with her own. Soon, it seemed like nothing else existed apart from themselves—but that, unfortunately, was not the reality of the situation. It just so happened that several things existed in that alley apart from themselves, none of which had much patience to spare for the private bliss of newlyweds.

Angel froze as he felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol being pressed against the base of his skull.

"Did you think you could hide forever?"

**TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

Hey, don't look at me; turning this one into a two-parter with a nasty cliffhanger at the end of part one was all **Kairos Impending**'s idea. Well, mostly. Or maybe just a little. But you could always go read her stuff to take off the edge of the suspense while you wait for the next episode. Anyway, since that ending came pretty much out of nowhere, I'm very interested to see what kind of guesses you lovely readers have as to what's going on there.


	11. 9x11: Sins of the Fathers

Episode 11: Sins of the Fathers

Featuring (sort of): Jewel Staite as Tahn

and

Enver Gjokaj (from _Dollhouse_) as Charlie the Bartender

†

"_Take my love, take my land_," sang Xander in a slightly slurred, off-key voice to his half-empty mug of beer, while the party went on enthusiastically behind him. He mumbled his way through the next couple of lines, which he couldn't seem to remember properly at the moment, and finished feebly, "_can't take the sky from me_." He raised his mug and drank the rest of its contents.

The bartender, a dark-haired, muscular young man who wore dog tags and had a slightly crooked nose, raised his eyebrows at him. "Not your kind of party, huh?" he said.

Xander held up his empty mug. "Course it is," he said. He clunked the mug back down on the bar and slid it towards the bartender. "Been too long since I had a party."

The bartender frowned. "I think you might want to ease up there, pal," he said.

"What're you talking about?" asked Xander with a drunken snicker, pointing at his eye. "I'm not even seeing double yet!"

The bartender's mouth twitched in reluctant amusement.

"Hey, you got a girlfriend?" said Xander, swaying a little.

"Yeah," he said, his expression softening. "Fiancée, actually. She's busy getting ready for her art show next week, or she'd have been here." He pulled out his wallet and opened it to show Xander a picture of himself and a pretty, laughing young woman with exotic features and strawberry blonde hair.

"My girlfriend's in Scotland. I was too late, she got hurt, and then…she wanted to stay away," said Xander glumly.

"Sorry about that, man," said the bartender.

"It's not the first time, either. Bad things always happen to my girlfriends." Cordelia. Impaled on rebar. Anya. Killed by Harbingers. Renée. Scarred by a zombie, bitten by a vampire. "I'm a crappy boyfriend," he concluded aloud.

After regarding Xander with a frown for a moment, the bartender looked past him into the dancing crowd. "Hey, Tahn!" he called. Almost at once, the demon girl came skipping over, smiling brightly, her tail swishing in time with the music.

"What's up, Sergeant Charlie?" she asked. He gave her a look that was both exasperated and amused, then jerked his head at Xander.

"Get this man on the dance floor," he said.

Tahn saluted him, then, grinning, looped one arm around Xander's elbow and practically hauled him off his stool. He stumbled and protested, but Tahn did not relinquish her grip, and had soon hauled him back to the crowd, where Alex and Cole had just declared a dance-off.

†

In the alley, Angel made to turn his head, but felt the barrel of the gun press more firmly against the back of his neck and froze.

"Ah-ah-ah, not so fast," said the same deep voice from behind him. The accent was heavily Italian, and Angel was wracking his brains, trying to think who it might belong to, but he didn't recognize it at all. "You don't want to force me to do anything I might regret, now, I think."

Buffy peeked carefully around Angel and saw five burly black-haired, olive-skinned men, each of whom was pointing a very large gun at them, but she couldn't see the one who had spoken. They were all, as far as she could tell, human, but that wasn't particularly comforting. She looked up at Angel, who stared back at her, more tense than she had ever seen him. Her heart hammered with fear. They were completely cornered, and there was nothing she could do against guns—not this many of them, anyway. And the maddening irony of it all was that there was only a single wall separating them from several dozen of their allies—Buffy could even hear the bass of the music inside pulsing through the slightly foul-smelling air of the alley—, but she and Angel might as well have been miles away, for all the good that did them. She gripped handfuls of Angel's waistcoat tightly.

"Who are you?" asked Angel through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"Not something you or any other can give back to me," the man growled. "But that is irrelevant."

"Who are you?" Angel asked again. He felt the barrel pull away from his neck, but the next second, there was a blinding pain on the back of his head, and he crumpled.

"Angel!" Buffy cried, catching him with her arms under his before he could hit the ground. She drew comfort from the fact that she could feel his breath on her throat, and she glared up at the man who had knocked him out. He had black hair and olive skin just like the rest of them. There were hints of gray at his temples, but he seemed to be only a few years younger than Giles. His face was full of anger and his gun was pointing straight between her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Buffy, clutching Angel closely to her and forcing herself not to shrink away from the gun. She saw the man's eyes flicker to Angel, then to her wedding ring, then back to her face. His eyes widened slightly, but then the angry mask was back.

"You should ask your dear husband, Signora," he said as he lowered his gun. One of his cronies moved forward, and Buffy's world too went black.

†

Buffy opened her eyes. At first, it didn't do much good. Then, slowly, after much heavy-lidded blinking, murky darkness resolved itself into an indistinct blur, and then into a wall that was painted a drab white. The surface was cracked and devoid of windows and doors. She threw her head back in a groan of exasperation. There was an audible _thunk_ as the back of her skull connected with something hard, and a very familiar voice let out a grunt of pain.

"Angel?" she asked. Her tongue felt swollen and as sluggish as the rest of her.

"Yeah," he replied just as thickly.

Buffy tried to turn and look at him, but she couldn't move her torso at all. Looking down, she saw heavy ropes across her shoulders and stomach that seemed to be binding her and Angel back-to-back. Her arms were strapped tightly to the arms of the uncomfortable metal chair in which she sat, and her feet were tied to its legs. She also noticed that she was still wearing her Halloween costume, and had to repress a brief and insane urge to laugh.

"Is it my imagination," she said, "or did we just get knocked out and kidnapped by a bunch of heat-packing Italian guys?"

"It's not your imagination," said Angel.

"Any idea _why_ we just got knocked out and kidnapped by a bunch of heat-packing Italian guys?" said Buffy, a slightly sharp edge to her tone. "Because I think it's also not my imagination that they were more focused on you."

"I've never seen any of them before," said Angel. "But if they've got something to do with Wolfram and Hart, I wouldn't need to have seen them before. Or it could have something to do with when I was in Rome in the spring."

"Great," said Buffy.

"It's gonna be okay," he said. "The others will notice we aren't at the hotel, and then they can get us out of here."

"Yeah, maybe," said Buffy flatly, "if Dawn and Connor hadn't seen us leave the club mid-make-out session. Plus, I'm pretty sure Christian told everyone else what he walked in on that time he barged into our room unannounced. Nobody's going to want to check on us until the afternoon at the earliest." She scowled at the dingy wall opposite her. "And stop smirking," she added irritably a second later. "This is serious. Those guys could use us for machine gun target practice before anyone even knows we're missing."

"Buffy, we're tied back-to-back," said Angel. "How would you know if I'm smirking?"

"_Were_ you smirking?" asked Buffy, raising her eyebrows and trying unsuccessfully to look over her shoulder at him.

"Yes," he admitted grudgingly.

†

Dawn yawned hugely as she put the Rogue costume back in her closet. She and Connor had only arrived back in Palo Alto five minutes ago. The party had gone on until four in the morning, and she hadn't gotten much sleep during the long car trip, so she was exhausted.

"How was the party?" asked Isabelle eagerly from her perch on the bed. "I hope it wasn't so intense that you'll sleep through when we do caramel apples this evening. And then trick-or-treating."

"It _was_ awesome," said Dawn, shutting the closet door and flopping wearily down next to Isabelle. "I won the dance-off, and I got to watch Connor win a plastic lightsaber duel with this guy dressed as a Sith Lord." She sat up, becoming more animated. "And there was this girl dressed as Luna! She even had a lion hat!"

Isabelle squealed in delight. "That's so awesome! What were the other costumes?"

Dawn screwed up her face in concentration. "Let's see…oh, my sister and brother-in-law were all dressed up as eighteenth century people. So were Willow and Laurel. I think that was some kind of prank on Angel, actually. He didn't look happy. The costumes were all really good, though. And…there were some more _Harry Potter_ characters, a Waldo, a Spock, and—" But the rest of her sentence was cut off by Mrs. Quinn, who had just entered the room.

"There's someone at the door for you, Dawn," she said.

"Oh, okay," said Dawn. She and Isabelle exchanged puzzled looks, but she got up anyway and followed Mrs. Quinn downstairs to the front door. When she saw who was standing there, she felt her insides freeze solid.

†

PEZ_witch: Look, if you don't knock it off, I'm going to ban you from the site.

Chosen1_395: u cant do that!1 im a slayer and ur not

PEZ_witch: No, I'm not a Slayer. I am, however, the moderator for this site, and I've told you several times already that chatspeak is not allowed here. Nor is compulsive lying.

Chosen1_395: u cant call me a lyer!

Willow let out a very loud noise of outrage, which made several of the Slayers and Watchers-in-training in the lobby pause what they were doing to stare at her, but she didn't notice. It was now very easy for her to see why Tara had avoided the internet.

PEZ_witch: AARGH! It's spelled L-I-A-R! Liar, _liar_, _LIA__R!_

WatcherDalton007: Get back, witch!

ViolentViolets42: I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!

WatcherDalton007: *snicker*

ViolentViolets42: *high five*

PEZ_witch: Be quiet, guys. That's it, Chosen! I'm banning you. And don't think you can come back with a new username. The security system has a mystical tracing component, so the site will recognize you no matter what computer or email address you try to use. Goodbye.

[Chosen1_395 has been banished]

ViolentViolets42: Are we allowed to come out now?

PEZ_witch: Yes.

WatcherDalton007: *and there was much rejoicing*

WatcherDalton007: Wait, whoa, does it really say "banished"?

PEZ_witch: Side-effect of the spells I used when Oz and I made the site. Some of the techno lingo went archaic on us.

ViolentViolets42: Hehe, awesome.

At that moment, the phone rang right next to Willow on the counter, causing her to jump so hard that she nearly toppled off her chair. Steadying herself, heart still beating wildly, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Pamela Quinn. Are you Dawn's sister?"

"No," said Willow. "Did you need to talk to her?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay." Willow turned back to her laptop and typed a hurried farewell.

PEZ_witch: Gotta go. Phone.

[PEZ_witch has signed off]

She picked up the phone again. "I'll go get her. Just a minute."

"Thank you."

Willow ducked out from behind the counter and hurried upstairs. She slowed when she drew near Buffy and Angel's room, suddenly uncertain. They hadn't been out to the main hotel at all so far that day, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know anything more about that. She reached the door, hesitated, then pressed her ear against it. All was silent on the other side.

"Buffy? Angel?" she said tentatively. No response. She repeated herself more loudly, but still nobody answered. Frowning, she opened the door and poked her head inside. The room appeared to be deserted, the lights were off, and the bed didn't look like it had been slept in. Her frown deepening, Willow pushed the door open all the way and walked into the room. "Guys?" she called, wandering around. There was no sign of them anywhere.

Starting to feel a little worried, Willow went back down to the lobby. "Has anyone seen Buffy or Angel since last night?" she asked loudly. They all said no or shook their heads, and several of them looked curious. "Did they leave a note or something?" she added. "Does anyone know where they are?" Again, the answer was unanimous in the negative. Feeling definitely panicky now, Willow walked past them to the phone on the counter. With the danger they all faced in their daily lives, the only reason Buffy and Angel would not have left word with someone regarding their whereabouts, no matter how preoccupied they were with each other, was if something bad had happened to them.

"Mrs. Quinn?" she said.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy isn't available right now. I'll have her call you as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

Willow hung up, then dashed into the office. "Hey, what's going on?" came several voices from behind her, but she ignored them and continued on through Dawn's doorway, down the centuries-old tunnel, and into the cavernous Lost Archive.

"Giles!" she shouted.

"Yes?" came a distant reply, and she leaned over the balcony to see Giles looking up at her from between two of the towering book stacks on the ground floor.

"I think Buffy and Angel are missing," she said.

†

"You having any luck with the ropes?" asked Angel.

"Nope," grunted Buffy as she strained, for probably the hundredth time, to free her arms and legs, which were starting to seize up from the continuous effort. If she only had an inch or two of slack, she would have had some leverage to make better use of her strength, but the ropes were simply too thick and tight, and the arms of the chair were also too solidly attached to the rest of it to break them off. "How about you?" she asked, giving up for the moment.

Angel snorted. He'd been trying, even though Buffy's lack of success against the same amount of rope in spite of Slayer strength made it extremely unlikely that his efforts to break free would do anything besides give him rope burns and pull a couple of muscles. "Nope." He sighed. "Do you think they know we're gone yet?"

"No idea. But even if they do, how are they supposed to find us? We don't even know where we are."

"I think we're in a hospital," said Angel. "There's an old cot over there. And judging by the chipped paint and the fact that it looks like mice used to nest in that mattress, probably an abandoned one."

"Can you see outside?"

"No. Window's boarded up."

"What about a phone?" asked Buffy, but then she snorted. "Not like we could reach it anyway. Or like it would work."

"Probably not," Angel agreed. Something stirred in his memory. "When we were at the airport before we went to Galway, didn't you and Willow say something about mind reading?"

"Yeah," said Buffy. "She's had this kind of dormant psychic ability ever since she went dark." Then she realized what that meant, and excitement coursed through her. "If I wasn't tied up, I'd kiss you," she said.

Angel smiled, but just then, the door in front of him banged open, and the man who had knocked him out before strode into the room, looking livid. Behind him, Angel felt Buffy jump at the sudden noise. To his bewilderment, the man brandished his right forearm at him. Etched into the skin there was an evil-looking symbol.

"You know what this is, si?" he growled.

"No," said Angel honestly. Buffy turned her head as far as she could, trying to see what was going on.

"You lie! This is the black sorcery of Wolfram e Hart!"

"If you're against Wolfram and Hart, then we're on the same side," said Angel.

"No capo di Wolfram e Hart is on my side," said the man. "You are just like that donnaccia in Roma."

"I only became the CEO so I could sabotage them!" said Angel, stung.

"That makes no difference! You worked for them. This mark declares me and my fellows the slaves of demons! Demons who took my family from me!" he shouted, shaking his forearm in Angel's face again so that the ugly, twisted symbol on the skin came within a couple of inches of his nose. "It is still here! You tell me that is not because you live? I think I will kill you and find out."

"I had nothing to do with that!" said Angel.

"Your denials mean nothing. I saw you speaking with one the demons! Wolfram e Hart is gone. The demons are dead. You and this mark remain."

The next words out of Angel's mouth were unintelligible to Buffy, and, to her displeasure, the argument continued in Italian from that point on, though it was just as heated as before. After a couple of minutes, the enraged man left the room, growling what were unmistakably threats under his breath—though he had still not reverted to English—as he departed, slamming the metal door behind him.

"What gives? I was understanding that conversation until you had to go and switch to Italian," said Buffy crossly.

"I was trying to gain sympathy by speaking his language," Angel explained.

"Oh. Did it work?"

"No," he said dully. "So you might want to start working on that 'Willow is psychic' angle."

†

"Uh, what's going on?" asked Alex uncertainly. Willow and Giles had just pulled her from the cluster of Slayers sparring in the lobby to the relative seclusion of the office, and both of them looked ominously grave. Cole came with her, and Oz was waiting for them in the office.

"Well," said Giles, "it would appear that Buffy and Angel have gone missing."

"Why didn't you just tell everyone?" asked Cole, confused.

"Everyone doesn't need to know until we find out where they are," said Willow. She turned to Alex. "That's what I need you for."

"Okay, still not following."

"I _would_ just do a tracking spell, but there are too many other Slayers in this city for that to be reliable, and Angel isn't as distinctive now that he's not a vampire with a soul anymore, so he'd be a straw-colored needle in a haystack. I'm sure there's a way to make it more specific than looking for a certain species or a specific amount of power, but it might take too long to figure out how to do that, and—"

"She could just ask the big kitty instead," Oz finished succinctly. "But that's kinda a Slayers-only gig."

"Right," said Willow, feeling a little sheepish for getting carried away with her babbling, but Oz's eyes twinkled in her direction, which helped.

"Ooh, cool! You want me to come with you to see the big kitty?" asked Alex eagerly. The mysterious Slayer spirit guide had been a subject of great curiosity to many of the Slayers Buffy had trained.

"Yeah," said Willow. "If you're okay with it. I would ask Faith, but the middle of the third trimester doesn't seem like the smartest time to sort of have an out-of-body experience on purpose."

"I'm totally okay with it!" said Alex. She and Willow left the office and headed up to the room Willow and Oz shared.

Oz frowned a few seconds after they had gone. "Where's Xander?" he asked. "Shouldn't he be in the maximum security clearance club too?"

"Er, he's asleep," said Giles. "I tried to tell him about half an hour ago. Seems he's still got a rather ghastly hangover."

"That sucks," said Cole.

To the surprise of all three men, Willow and Alex were back in under ten minutes, looking crestfallen. "No luck?" asked Oz.

"Oh, it worked," said Willow, "it just didn't help."

"Huh?" said Cole.

"I got to see through other Slayers' eyes," said Alex. "But when I finally zeroed in on Buffy, all I saw was this stupid white wall. And that she's tied to a chair."

"Hello, square one," said Oz.

_Willow?_

"What?" she asked. The other four stared at her, bemused. "I thought I heard someone say my name." They shook their heads.

Then it came again, more strongly than before. _Willow! Can you hear me?_

"Oh!" she said, realizing where it was coming from. And then she recognized the voice. "Hey, it's Buffy!"

"What the—" began Cole, exchanging a mystified look with Alex.

Willow tapped her head with a finger, and Giles said "Shh."

_Buffy!_ Willow thought, _I can hear you. Where are you?_

_ In an abandoned hospital, I think. I can't see anything from where I'm sitting, but Angel says there's an old cot in the other corner, and the window's boarded up._

_ What happened?_

_ A bunch of big Italian guys came and took us from the alley outside the Lair. One of them came in to the room where they tied us up and started yelling at Angel about Wolfram and Hart. It sounded like he was another one of their enemies, but Angel couldn't convince him that we're on his side._

_ Yikes._

_ They've got really big guns, Wil, and they think killing Angel will free them from some kind of demonic contract. Hurry._

"They're in an abandoned hospital," said Willow out loud.

"Like the one in Downey?" asked Alex. They all looked at her in surprise. "What? My squad took out a vamp nest there back in June."

"That's gotta be it," said Oz. "How many other abandoned hospitals do you think LA has?"

†

About an hour later, Willow, Alex, and a few of the other Slayers from the Hyperion arrived at the Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center. Since they would apparently be dealing with human opponents, they were armed with such potentially nonlethal weapons as baseball bats and quarterstaffs.

The place was somewhere between creepy and miserable with its huddle of empty, boarded up white structures. Most of the windows that weren't covered in plywood were broken, and graffiti and heaps of rubbish were plentiful. After searching four buildings without any luck, they found what they were looking for. Three shiny black cars stood out like a beacon against the backdrop of one of the larger and shabbier buildings. They approached cautiously and Willow led the way inside, taking care to step over all of the litter in her path.

It wasn't long before they could hear voices coming from a room up ahead. They moved, if possible, even more quietly than before, but suddenly, a man walked out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. He saw them and let out a yell. Their cover blown, they ran forward. They had almost reached the room when the man who had seen them and five others burst out of it, all wielding what looked terrifyingly like fully automatic machine guns. However, with a flick of the wrist and a few well-chosen words in Latin, Willow caused all of the cartridges to fall to the floor. The Slayers bounded forward and began to fight the men, who didn't seem at all thrown off by the fact that their opponents were all girls about half their size.

Alex was fighting one who was probably the largest of the group. Even though she didn't qualify as petite by most people's standards, this man towered over her. He caught hold of her bat when she attempted to swing it into his face, and now she was struggling to get it back. A well-aimed kick to his right shin had him staggering backward, and he was suddenly bathed in the strip of sunlight flooding from one of the rooms off the corridor.

Alex froze in her tracks. She knew that face. She'd looked at pictures of it almost every day for the past seventeen years since she and her mother had fled Italy. "_Dad_?" The man froze too, staring at her with wide eyes that were the same hazel-green as hers. Neither of them noticed that all of the other fighting pairs had stopped what they were doing to stare at them. Alex's heart pounded madly in her chest, and it was difficult to remember how to speak again. "B-Bartolomeo Francesco Giuseppe Romano?"

He gasped. "Alexandria?"

Alex felt conflicted. She'd spent her whole life laughing off her fear that her Mafia Capo father would find her and her mother again, but the only things she could see in his face—beneath the utter bewilderment, that was—were hope and longing. She nodded.

"You're alive?" he whispered.

Again, she nodded. The baseball bat clattered to the dusty floor, and the next second, Bartolomeo's arms were around her in a very tight hug and he was sobbing into her shoulder. His five cronies, the other Slayers, and Willow all exchanged flabbergasted looks, but understood this extremely unexpected family reunion to constitute a ceasefire.

†

Buffy and Angel were released from the captivity of Bartolomeo and his men with many profuse apologies. It took the entirety of the journey back to the Hyperion to fill them in on why they were no longer tied to chairs. Apparently, Bartolomeo and the others had been tricked through various means into signing contracts that effectively made them the human front for a demonic Mafia family in Sicily. The contracts had the ironclad backing of Wolfram and Hart behind them, and only with the firm's retreat from this dimension had they been able to attempt to sever those ties. Alex's mom, it seemed, had never known about the demons and the coercion behind Bartolomeo's Mafia involvement, and she had seized her chance after a failed assassination attempt by another mafia family to escape with Alex to the United States.

Angel was slightly miffed that the fact that his captor's long-lost daughter happened to be one of his allies held more weight than his insistence—in fluent Italian, no less—that he had brought about the downfall of the very law firm Bartolomeo hated, but it was nice to not be tied up in an abandoned hospital room anymore either way.

Meanwhile, Bartolomeo was reacting to the news that not only were his wife and daughter still alive after believing they were dead for seventeen years, but he also had a son-in-law, and he seemed to be torn between delight and fatherly overprotectiveness about this. He had pulled Cole into a painfully tight bear hug on first being introduced to him by Alex, but that had been followed by such a rigorous interrogation to determine whether or not Cole was worthy of his daughter that the young musician soon looked as though he would have preferred that Bartolomeo hadn't turned out to be his father-in-law after all. Shortly thereafter, all of the Italians, plus a rather shell-shocked Alex and Cole, had gone off to a restaurant to celebrate the miraculous reunion.

After recovering from her own shock, Willow remembered what had led to her discovery that Buffy and Angel had been missing in the first place. "Hey," she said, "Mrs. Quinn called about Dawn earlier. She wanted you to call back as soon as you could."

"Oh," said Buffy, who had just returned to the lobby after changing out of her tavern wench costume (and what a relief it was to finally be out of that corset).

"Did she say what was up?" asked Angel, who had also returned to his usual twenty-first century attire.

"No," said Willow.

"Huh." Buffy picked up the lobby phone, but she had barely started dialing when Willow let out a sharp gasp. Buffy looked inquiringly at her and saw that she was staring, open-mouthed, at the front doors. She looked too, and had to blink very hard several times before she believed her eyes.

Apparently, Alex and Bartolomeo didn't have a monopoly on father-daughter reunions for the day. There, on the threshold, next to a thoroughly sleep-deprived but smiling Dawn, and looking extremely anxious, stood Hank Summers.

"Oh!" said Willow with an awkward laugh. "I just remembered that I have a thing—a not here thing, so I should go do that." She had been backing towards the stairs as she spoke, and practically sprinted up them once she was done.

For Dawn, the past five hours that had constituted the drive from Palo Alto to L.A. had been spent catching up. Despite a reasonable amount of awkwardness, most of the conversation had ranged from pleasant to cheerful and excited. Somehow, though, as she looked from her big sister to her dad, Dawn knew that things were not going to go quite that well with Buffy, and she didn't want to see it. "Uh, Dad?" she said. "I think I'm just gonna go make up for that night of sleep I never got."

Hank's expression became alarmed as he realized he would have to confront his eldest without help, but Dawn had already followed Willow up the stairs before he could say anything to prevent this. "Hello, Buffy," he said, then winced at how formal it sounded.

"Hello," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. Silence fell. It was a horrible, gaping silence that crackled with tension and seemed to last for hours. Angel shifted uncomfortably at Buffy's side.

Hank's gaze was drawn by the movement, and he made another brave stab at conversation. "W-who's your friend, Buffy?" he asked, moving a few steps farther into the lobby.

"Husband," Buffy corrected, so bluntly that Angel knew she was going for shock value. It worked.

Hank's eyes went very wide, and he struggled to keep his astonishment from showing. "Oh, wow," he said. "You're married! That's just—uh, when did you two meet?"

"When I was sixteen," said Buffy.

"Oh," said Hank, looking wretched. "So, not exactly a whirlwind courtship, I guess."

"Hi, Mr. Summers," said Angel, walking forward and holding out his hand. "I'm Angel—well, it says Liam Gallagher on my birth certificate, but everyone calls me Angel."

Hank shook his hand, wrenching his gaze away from Buffy long enough to give Angel a long, appraising look, which ended with an approving nod. Angel returned to Buffy's side, and the dreaded silence descended again. This time, Buffy was the one to break it.

"So, what," she said coldly, "now that you're finished having your mid-life crisis, you've decided to start acting like a father again? Is that it?"

"No, sweetie, I—" Hank tried to protest, but she cut him off.

"Don't call me 'sweetie', _Hank_," she said. "Go back to Spain with your secretary." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the lobby.

†

"Buffy, wait!" said Angel. He caught up with her halfway down the corridor leading to the kitchen. "You're not even going to give him a chance?" he asked. "He's your father, and he is trying." Angel didn't really know much about Hank Summers, but he remembered how painful it had been to be hated and shunned by his own child, and he was loath to stand back and allow his father-in-law to experience the same thing.

She turned to face him, and he saw that her eyes were shining with angry tears. "Dawn and I haven't seen or heard from him in years. He _ignored_ us. He didn't come to Mom's funeral. He didn't support us after she died. He didn't come to our wedding. He didn't even know about it! He didn't even know about _you_, even though we've known each other for eight years!" She wiped her eyes fiercely. "He hasn't been my father for a long time."

†

Giles emerged slowly from the office and looked over at Hank Summers. He had heard every word of Buffy's outburst in the hall moments before. Forcing his expression to remain neutral (he couldn't quite manage welcoming or cordial), he walked towards the other man.

"Mr. Summers," he said. Hank tore his eyes away from the place where Buffy had disappeared from view and turned them on Giles, who noticed that their irises were precisely the same shade of blue as Dawn's. His hair was the same brownish-auburn as hers as well.

"Hello," said Hank. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."

"Rupert Giles," he said, holding out a hand, which Hank shook. "Buffy and Dawn's, er, mentor, of sorts."

"Oh. And you own this hotel?" asked Hank, looking around.

"Er, no," said Giles. "Buffy's husband owns it. I'm here in more of a managing capacity, I suppose." If overseeing the training of an assortment of very tiresome prospective Watchers counted as managing, anyway, he added mentally.

"And how long have you known my girls?"

"Since not long after Joyce moved to Sunnydale with them."

"You knew Joyce too?" asked Hank.

"I was the librarian at Sunnydale High when Buffy was enrolled there," said Giles, steering the conversation in a slightly different direction in order to save himself from the alarmingly strong temptation to voice in precisely how many senses of the word he had "known" Joyce Summers. It was as if the ghost of his enchanted chocolate-influenced self had risen up and was attempting to possess him.

"Buffy isn't really the type to hang out in the library much," said Hank, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm not sure you could give much of an informed assessment on what type of girl she is anymore," said Giles, surprising himself with how calmly the words came out.

Hank's expression darkened instantly. "I'm her father," he said.

"Yes, and you've done a splendid job of acting like it for the past several years," Giles snorted. "Tell me, was Spain worth it?"

Angry but guilt-ridden, Hank could only stare at him, so he went right on.

"You had a moral obligation to those girls and more than enough resources to care for them after their mother died. Instead, you gave them no effective way of contacting you at all, leaving a twenty-year-old girl with little choice but to give up her own life and education in order to take care of her sister—which she did, I might add, and quite admirably." And the former of Buffy's sacrifices for Dawn had been more literal than Hank would ever know. "I did what I could for them, and I'd do it again a hundred times, but it shouldn't have been necessary."

"And next you'll tell me that it was all out of the goodness of your heart, and not because you wanted to take advantage of them."

Giles saw red, and a split-second later, his left fist collided with Hank's nose, which broke, and blood began to pour from both nostrils. "I would die a thousand torturous deaths before I would even think of taking advantage of them!" shouted Giles. "I love them as if they were my own daughters!"

His face a bloody, agonizing mess, Hank looked for a second like he wanted to retaliate, but then his shoulders slumped and he attempted to stem the flow from his nose with his hands. Giles hesitated, then pulled out a white handkerchief and handed it over. Hank took it. "Thanks," he said. There was a long, awkward pause as Hank mopped his nose with the handkerchief. "I'm sorry I said that. It's good to know that Buffy and Dawn had someone like you while I was being an idiot."

"I shouldn't have hit you," said Giles, mollified by Hank's words. "I'm sorry."

"No," said Hank, "I deserved it." He winced, still dabbing at his nose with the now crimson handkerchief. "I just wish your aim wasn't so good."

Giles chuckled, then became serious again. "Buffy and Dawn are both adults now, and very capable of looking after themselves, but I'd like to know what your intentions are in regards to them. Is this just a visit, or do you intend to remain in their lives for good?"

Hank sighed. "I just want to get to know them again. I missed so much. Buffy's married. Dawn's about to graduate. My little girls grew up, and I wasn't there to see it."

"I wouldn't let that become an excuse to miss any more, if I were you. You might give Buffy a chance to cool down, though."

"Yeah, that would probably be wise," said Hank in resignaiton. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. "Would you, uh, would you mind giving this to her and telling her she and Dawn can call me whenever they want to get together, or even just to talk?"

"Of course," said Giles, accepting the card from him.

"Thanks."

†

Eugene, Oregon

Drusilla tilted her head and grinned down at the lifeless bodies at her feet, which had until very recently belonged to the proprietors of the quaint little natural foods store, which they had been closing up for the evening. Behind her, Spike was busy relieving the cash register of its larger bills.

"Delicious, weren't they?" she said happily. "One of those delightful bohemians recommended this place."

"Hippies, love," said Spike distractedly. "They're called hippies here."

"Such a wild, free spirit. She hears the earth and the moon too." Drusilla frowned. "I hope they haven't been sharing any of my secrets with her. But I shall have to thank her for the feast. They tasted like the Spanish maids. Remember, Spike?"

"Hell of a lot more filling than the brunette in that backwoods town in Washington," he agreed. "Well," he added, stepping back from the till, his jacket pockets now bulging slightly, "I reckon that'll see us through another few weeks."

He looked around. "What is it, Dru?" he asked, for she was still staring down at the bodies, but a small frown had appeared on her face. She didn't seem to have heard him. Not answering, she bent down and traced her fingers over the still-warm faces of their victims, singing softly to herself. Spike didn't catch the first few words, but he moved closer, and though he had no idea what it meant, he felt shivers run unbidden up and down his spine at what he heard.

"Secrets that were too well kept and then forgotten.  
What comes up in the pail when the water's gone dry?  
Who will look inside if not the boy who cannot lie?"

* * *

It was mean to ask you guys to guess who had Buffy and Angel at gunpoint in that alley as if it should have been obvious rather than the obscure follow-up on like five lines of dialogue about Alex's backstory from the early episodes of "Season 8". Though that also means that anything could be foreshadowing. ANYTHING. O_O Now then. Drunk Browncoat Xander was fun. Another one-eyed joke! How I've missed them. Oh, and for any of you _Dollhouse_ fans who didn't pick up on it, that picture Charlie showed Xander was of Dichen Lachman (well, the Buffyverse version of her, anyway, who happens to also be an artist). I think you know who I ship in that fandom. Hehe. By the way, Charlie wasn't dressed as a soldier for Halloween. He's actually a veteran. Those dog tags were real. Let's see...ooh, more from the obnoxious Chosen1_395, and good riddance to her. That abandoned hospital Bartolomeo had Buffy and Angel tied up in actually exists. I found some pictures of it online, and it would make for a pretty spiffy set. Hank returns! I kind of hated how the show made him into a complete loser of a dad. I don't think he really deserved that. But since it did happen, he *did* deserve to be punched in the face by Giles. Oh, and the episode title refers to the four fathers/father figures of the episode: Hank, Giles, Angel, and Bartolomeo. The title was going to be "Unorganized Crime", but I thought "Sins of the Fathers" was a lot more meaningful, and I already did a silly play-on-words title back with "Customer Disservice". Spike and Dru return for more ominous cliffhanger-y action! Woohoo! Still on the run from Illyria. Special thanks to a certain awesome person for all the insight about Eugene, Oregon. It made that scene so much more fun. Also, bonus points will go to those of you who caught the references to other 'verses. There were many, but I think that while some of them were much more blatant than usual, others were more subtle. Like the one Spike made. That's probably my favorite one.


	12. 9x12: Chaos Ensues

Okay, there was a nine page essay, and then my muse eloped with my poltergeist. Please throw things at me if I ever leave an update for this thing so late again.

* * *

Episode 12: Chaos Ensues

Guest starring/featuring (sort of): Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan

Jewel Staite as Tahn

Enver Gjokaj as Charlie the Bartender

John Francis Daley as Leonard

and

Ryan Cartwright as Nigel

†

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Tahn swished her tail to the beat of the music blaring through the club as she helped Charlie fill the orders made by the large party taking up several tables in a corner. This party was comprised, as she had sneakily gathered over the three and a half weeks of their patronage, of a number of surly Italian men (one of whom seemed to be the previously estranged father of Illogical Stop Sign's drummer), the drummer herself, the band's bassist (who also happened to be her husband), and a rather heavily scarred black man who spouted so much legal jargon that Tahn almost got headaches just from trying to eavesdrop on him.

The few snatches of conversation she'd managed to overhear that had been neither in Italian nor lawyer-speak told her that they were attempting to secure the Italians' freedom from some sort of hateful contract so that they could all go back to their lives and their families. Sometimes (particularly after liberal amounts of alcohol had been supplied) this business would be interrupted by the leader's loud and exaggerated exclamations to his daughter and son-in-law about his impatience for them to make him a grandfather, at which the couple always blushed furiously and feebly tried to laugh along with him and his men.

It was in the latter attitude that Tahn found the group when she arrived with their drinks, so she was deprived the opportunity of gleaning any new details of the progress they were making with their legal trouble. Her disappointment was minor, however, and she returned to the bar to fill the next order quite cheerfully. Her spirits rose still further when she saw who the customer was.

"Why, if it ain't Tobias MacGowan!" she said in a fake Southern drawl. Abandoning this, she added gleefully, "You're back!" He winced and shot furtive glances around the club at the exuberance of her greeting, but couldn't help smiling at her. She looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall and decided that it wouldn't hurt to take her break a couple of minutes early. Willy was in the back room doing inventory anyway, and tonight's crowd was fairly small. After a wave to Charlie to let him know what she was up to, she plopped down in the chair opposite Tobias at his table. "It's great to see you again," she said, beaming widely. "I thought that Buffy chick scared you off for good!"

"Almost," he said. "I thought maybe enough time had passed since then that I could try for a second chance." He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and fidgeted with the bottle she'd brought him. "You wouldn't happen to know if Angel ever, uh, got his memory back, would you?"

Tahn shrugged. "He's seemed pretty comfy with twenty-first century society every time I've ever seen him in here. Except," she broke off, snickering, "for the Halloween party, but that was just because of his costume. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he and Buffy got married after all, so it doesn't look like there's been much harm done, right?"

"Yeah," he said, looking a little less anxious. "Yeah, that's good."

She regarded him shrewdly for a moment and then stretched out a lilac-skinned hand and covered one of his pale ones with it. "This really means a lot to you, doesn't it?" she asked. "Getting to be a Watcher?"

She blushed a deep violet when he placed his free hand over hers. "It's all I've ever wanted," he said fervently.

†

The door of Willow and Oz's suite creaked slightly as it was opened. The noise mingled with the apprehensive intake of breath of the owner of the hand on the doorknob, but the room's inhabitants were both sleeping soundly enough in each other's arms that they did not stir. With more caution than before, the intruder stole across the room and into the bathroom. After a moment's groping around in the dark, the desired object, a hairbrush, was found and relieved of several of the long hairs that clung to it.

†

The following afternoon, Leonard—unlike the rest of the Watchers-in-training, who had all returned with Mr. Giles to the Lost Archive after a prolonged and elaborate Thanksgiving dinner—was halfway through the daunting task of organizing the mess of papers and books scattered across the lobby desk when a jumpy-looking but very pretty blonde woman entered the hotel. "Uh, happy Thanksgiving!" he said automatically. She smiled. "C-can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm here to see Oz," she said. "Full moon starts tonight."

"Oho, so you're a werewolf!" said Leonard with great interest, but to his intense disappointment, the conversation was cut short by the arrival of Willow and Oz in the lobby. Both werewolves shuddered involuntarily as they shook hands very briefly, and the muscles in their jaws seemed to work rather harder than usual as they greeted each other with politeness they clearly wished was not forced. Leonard was fascinated, but then they and Willow headed for the basement, leaving him alone with his sorting project.

†

Willow was not entirely convinced that this was a good idea. If Oz was uncertain enough about his self-control to ask her to be there, ready to toss up a magical shield between him and Nina if things got violent when they transformed and the cage proved insufficient to stop it, then maybe it would be better to just leave well enough alone.

Oz closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute. "Ready?" he asked. He sounded friendly enough, but his fists were clenched and his nostrils were flared.

"No," said Nina with a nervous chuckle, exerting every ounce of restraint she possessed not to leap at him and attack, something that got harder and harder to do as moonrise approached, "but it's not like the moon's gonna wait for us, is it?"

Willow frowned, but the corner of Oz's mouth twitched. He made sure the cage was securely locked, then took a couple of steps back.

"See you on the other s—," said Nina, but the last word was cut off in a strangled snarl. A second later, she and Oz both doubled over as the transformation began. Willow winced and closed her eyes, but she couldn't block out the grinding sounds of bones shifting and changing shape. Within seconds, it was over, and barely five more seconds had passed after that when wolf-Nina started to growl, fangs bared and eyes fixed on Oz, who was not growling—but not because he didn't want to, by the looks of him. His ears were flat against his skull and fur was standing on end. Tentatively, Willow reached out and scratched him behind the ears. An odd shiver passed through him and he seemed to relax a little.

_Thanks for keeping me grounded_, she heard him think at her about a minute later. It was the first time he'd ever tapped her telepathy, and she grinned.

"Anytime," she said over Nina's continued growls. "You gonna patrol after a couple hours of werewolf anger management?"

_That's the plan. And things are already going better than last month. She's not even throwing herself at the bars to attack me._

"Neither are you," Willow pointed out.

_Neither am I_, he agreed, and his thoughts, which were more expressive than his speech, sounded both surprised and relieved.

†

Livvy rubbed her eyes sleepily and wandered, bare-footed and pajama-clad, out of the room she shared with her sister. The hallway was striped with shafts of crisp morning sunlight that streamed in through the occasional open door. Livvy reached the stairs and bunny-hopped her way down them to the lobby. It was silent and deserted, which would have felt spooky if it had been nighttime, but instead felt sleepily peaceful, an atmosphere that made the six-year-old want to find one of those patches of warm sunlight again and curl up in it like a cat. Instead, she walked towards the kitchen, but she was distracted before she reached it by the sound of voices coming from the door that led to the basement. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed towards the voices, which she soon saw belonged to Buffy and Angel.

At first, she thought they were fighting and was alarmed and confused, but then she realized that it was just one of those fake fights everyone at the hotel did all the time but said she was too little to do. She sat down on the cement steps and watched them through the railing. They didn't seem to notice her, and the longer she watched, the more entranced she became. It looked like a dance, even though there was no music and they were talking about perfectly ordinary things.

"Wanna go see _The Incredibles_ again today?" asked Buffy, sweeping aside one of Angel's kicks.

"We've seen it twice already," he said, smirking and dodging the retaliatory elbow that would have broken his nose. They continued their fluid waltz of strikes and parries, advances and retreats, always perfectly in step with each other.

"Well, yeah, but I love it. It's funny and action-y and with cool retro-ness and…it feels kinda like the comic book movie version of what our supernatural-savvy family could be like. Plus, it's a great chance for you to learn all those middle class suburban household stereotypes, Mr. I-Grew-Up-in-the-Seventeen-Thirties."

Angel laughed, and in the resultant split-second that he lowered his defenses, Buffy closed in, and then he found himself sprawled on the floor.

"I win," she said smugly, holding out a hand to help him up. "_The Incredibles_ it is."

"Best two out of three," he said as she pulled him to his feet. They had just gotten back in their fighting stances when Buffy wobbled and put a hand to her head. It was hardly a second's warning, but Angel rushed forward and caught her before she could hit the ground. Up on the stairs, Livvy tensed and her grip on the railing tightened.

"Whoa," said Buffy weakly.

"I didn't connect a blow without realizing it, did I?" asked Angel, his brow furrowed.

"No," she said, "I just got a little dizzy. I'm okay."

"You sure? You're almost as pale as I used to be." He let go of her skeptically. She staggered again, but steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine." She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. Livvy scowled and stuck out her tongue. "You don't mind me taking a rain check on the rematch, though?"

"Of course not." Together, they moved towards the stairs, and Livvy wasn't fast enough to escape before they spotted her.

"Hey, there, you're up early," said Buffy, smiling.

"Can you teach me how to fight like that?" asked Livvy eagerly. The influence of her sister, Giles, and several British Watchers-in-training had not been enough to prevent her accent from becoming slightly Americanized over the past couple of months.

"When you're older," said Angel.

Livvy pouted, and Buffy's resolve weakened. "Maybe if Abby wants to show you something, but it's not really up to us."

"Okay! Can we have leftovers from yesterday? That dinner was really good."

"Sounds great!" said Angel, his excitement at the prospect just as pronounced as hers. Buffy smiled affectionately.

†

With a loud thud, Dawn plopped a fresh stack of books from the Lost Archive on the lobby desk. Leonard watched her inflict her clutter upon the space he had so carefully organized the evening before with a pained expression. Oblivious to this, Dawn spread the books out and checked each one quickly, jotted down the languages in which they were written on her notepad, then jogged to the shelf of miscellaneous living and dead languages to English dictionaries in the office. After running her index finger along their spines for a few seconds, she pulled down the ones for Greek, Arabic, and Sumerian and brought them back to the lobby. In a final flourish, she whipped out a pair of reading glasses, perched them on her nose, and sat down to translate. Giles, who was passing through, teacup in hand, gave her a nod and a smile. She pretended not to notice the looks of mingled awe and indignation she was now receiving from Nigel, Christian, and Winston, none of whom had succeeded in garnering that much in the way of praise from the man they constantly fell over each other to impress.

She'd gotten about a page and a half into the first book when Connor sidled up to the desk and leaned against it. "This how you always spend your Thanksgiving breaks?" He asked in amusement.

"New tradition, I guess," she said, shrugging and adjusting her glasses.

Connor frowned. "I didn't know you had reading glasses," he said.

"Oh," said Dawn, "they're not, uh, actually real. I just got them for the dramatic effect." It sounded completely ridiculous out loud, and she blushed, but he only grinned and reached over to push the glasses higher on the bridge of her nose.

"Weirdo," he teased affectionately, "I like them." She smiled. "So, whenever you want a break," he added more seriously, "we could go for lunch or…hot chocolate or pie or something."

"I approve of this plan," she said with a formal little nod. He laughed.

"Hey, Connor!" called one of the Slayers across the lobby, waving him over. Dawn's eyes narrowed. The girl was tall and blonde and, like a few of the others, wore irritatingly skimpy and form-fitting workout clothes. In _winter_. Dawn considered having words with her sister about making baggy sweats regulation sparring wear.

"Oh, that's my cue," said Connor. He leaned across the desk and planted a very brief kiss on her lips, then turned and walked over to the blonde Slayer. Once they began their sparring match alongside the other pairs, Dawn found it much more difficult to concentrate on her translation work than she had before. Every few words of translated Greek were interrupted by a glance towards her boyfriend and Blondie. She felt stupid about the glasses now, no matter what he'd said about them. She wished she were a Slayer, so she could be the one sparring with Connor and actually posing a threat. These feelings and others festered inside her for several long minutes, and she finally gave up trying to translate anything.

It wasn't until a few seconds after her latest sneaky glance from behind her book at the sparring pair that she noticed that her hands were glowing green. With a yelp, she hid them under the desk, panic instantly trumping jealousy and inadequacy. She noticed that she had attracted a few odd looks, and she smiled as normally as she could at the Watchers-in-training who wore them. Once they had all looked away, she snuck a peek at her hands. They were still glowing. Why were they still glowing? Why had they _started_ glowing? She tried to remember if she'd thought, even in passing, about wanting to go to a different dimension or somewhere not easily reached on this dimension, but she drew a blank. Her panic continued to escalate. She had only ever accessed her Key power by concentrating as hard as she could on the destination she wanted to reach, or that someone else wanted to reach through her. She didn't have the faintest idea how to turn that power off if it was triggered by something else. She kept her hands firmly hidden under the desk to avoid looking at them, now trying only to hold in her tears of frustration and fear.

Muttering vaguely about going to the bathroom, she hid her hands in her pockets, got up, and left the lobby. She didn't pay much attention to where she was going and soon ended up in the kitchen, which was mercifully empty. Taking deep, calming breaths, she pressed her hands, palms down, on the table and leaned heavily upon them. A second later, she fell forward with a shriek. A doorway she had not meant to create had just opened in the surface of the table. She just managed to catch herself before she tumbled all the way through it into the unknown world to which it led. Her heart pounded and her breathing was frantic. She tried to pull the portal closed, but the shining pinkish ring around it would neither budge nor decrease in diameter, no matter how hard she tugged at it. Not knowing what else to do, she seized a tablecloth from a nearby cupboard and threw it over the surface, hoping no one would notice how it dipped improbably in the middle, then scurried out of the kitchen and back to her place at the lobby desk, hands firmly in her pockets again.

†

Oz woke up a little earlier than usual that morning. He opened one bleary eye and saw that it was only eleven o'clock. Willow must have already gone downstairs. He was curled in a warm ball at the foot of the bed. It took him a moment to realize that he was still in wolf form, a fact he acknowledged with a detached grunt before hopping down from the bed and giving himself over to a huge yawn and an almighty stretch that shuddered from the toes of his front paws to the tip of his tail. Having recovered from this, he glanced idly around the room.

He noticed with interest that the only color he could see was the remembered color from his untransformed state, which his brain now projected into this grayscale world. Willow's hair, for instance, he knew would appear just as beautifully wine-red to him now as it would if he were human, and he could see the forest green of the bedspread, the vibrant cherry-red of his guitar leaning against a wall, and the splashy marbled blue of the walls he and Willow had repainted together the first week after they picked out this room. The perceived color despite his colorblindness fascinated him, and he amused himself for a few minutes by padding around the room in search of anything colorful. Eventually he grew bored of this and wandered into the bathroom, wanting to watch his reflection as he transformed back.

†

Xander felt annoyed at himself. Renée had been in Scotland for three months, and he still hadn't been able to get over it. As if to make sure he would continue not getting over it, he was now sitting on the end of his bed, morosely perusing the completed pages of the comic they'd spent so many hours working on together over the summer. He found himself tracing her illegible signature whenever it appeared in the corner of a page, and thought again how pathetic he was.

He wasn't even angry at her; she had every right to want to spend time with her family. Because he hadn't been fast or strong enough, she'd been brutally forced to come to terms with her mortality, and if she wanted the refuge of home because of that, who was he to resent her for it? He was only jealous that she had such a loving home in which to seek refuge, while here he was, a stray who always seemed to get in the way.

All of a sudden, Xander's ears were filled with a loud, rather comical popping noise, like the noise bubbles make when they pop in cartoons, but when he looked around for its source, he found to his intense surprise and confusion that he was standing in between two towering bookshelves. He was in the Lost Archive. Staggering backwards in bewilderment, he knocked into something solid—or, rather, some_one_, who let out a cry of alarm as the teetering stack of books in his arms turned into a minor avalanche of literature.

"Good Lord, Xander, do watch where you're going!" said Giles in exasperation as he bent to retrieve his books.

"Sorry!" said Xander, dropping to his knees and snatching up as many of the books as he could before Giles could get them. Once they were all back in the Watcher's arms, Xander straightened up and continued staring around himself in utter confusion. "Wil?" he said loudly. "Is this your idea of a joke? I think I liked your old sense of humor better!"

"What _are_ you talking about?" asked Giles.

"Ten seconds ago, I was sitting in my room, and then there was this popping noise, and then I was here," said Xander.

"Oh," said Giles, frowning. "And you think it was Willow's doing?"

"Know anyone else who can teleport?"

Giles's frown deepened. "I don't recall a popping noise being involved whenever she teleported. A bright flash of light, perhaps, but nothing else. I suppose you may as well find her and ask as not, though. Even if she wasn't behind it, she might be able to point you in the right direction."

"Yeah," said Xander vaguely. "Thanks." Leaving Giles with his books, he walked off down the aisle.

"The stairs to the exit are the other way."

†

"I still don't like it," said Angel, following Buffy doggedly into the office.

"I'm _fine_," said Buffy, rolling her eyes.

"What happened?" asked Willow, who was sitting at the desk with her laptop open in front of her, marshalling, as usual, the Council website.

"It was nothing," said Buffy firmly.

"Almost passing out in a sparring match without taking any blows first isn't nothing," said Angel.

"I sort of agree," said Willow, looking at Buffy with a worried expression.

"Guys, come on, there's nothing wrong with me!"

"Buffy, it's never happened to you before," said Angel, trying to keep his voice reasonable rather than hysterical. It was a difficult feat, but after all, he'd grown up in a time when the slightest physical complaint could have the direst of consequences. More members of his own family had been claimed by illness than by his demon. None of them had made it anywhere near Buffy's current age; most had died in infancy, but still… "How do you know it was just a one time thing?"

By now their conversation had drawn Dawn into the office. Her hands were stuffed deeply into her pockets, which seemed oddly green and luminous, and she looked extremely tense, but everyone's attention was still focused on Buffy, who was saying, "Of course it was just a one-time thing! I feel _completely_ _fine_."

At these words, however, a new fear had occurred to her—one she dared not voice. She had dismissed it once it had passed, but now that she thought about it, the only times she'd ever had a dizzy spell during a fight without being able to blame it on some injury were when she'd tried to fight Angelus with the flu and when Giles had drugged her for her Cruciamentum. Neither excuse applied now, but what about all those times her mother had shown that symptom—in the year before she died? Buffy wracked her brains, trying to remember whether the doctors had ever said anything about her mom's condition being genetic. What if Angel's concern wasn't groundless? What if there really was something terribly wrong with her?

"Okay, but it couldn't hurt to go to the doc—" But Angel's sentence was cut short at that point by a loud bang and accompanying flash of light. Dawn jumped violently and Willow leapt to her feet. Both looked wildly around, the former thinking she must have made another doorway without meaning to, but then Buffy noticed that Angel was no longer beside her. She thought she caught a glimpse of the black material of his jacket disappearing from view above the sofa, as if he had just dived behind it, but the thud of his body hitting the floor was so disproportionately quiet for a man so large that she wondered whether the fainting spell had affected her hearing.

"Angel?" she said uncertainly, edging closer to the sofa. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" he said loudly, though he sounded rather panicked.

"Did you see what caused that blast?" asked Willow.

"No!" he said, his voice a little higher than usual, not to mention much louder than necessary. "I don't think it meant anything. You should just forget about it."

Buffy, Willow, and Dawn all exchanged bemused looks, then Buffy rolled her eyes, kneeled on the sofa, and peered behind it. Her gasp of shock was somewhat drowned by Angel's resigned groan. Before Willow and Dawn could look behind the couch too, he had stood back up, but his current condition meant that only his head was visible. Both women let out gasps like Buffy's.

"You-you-you're a—," stammered Willow, but Dawn found the last word first.

"Puppet!" she shrieked, her expression somewhere between laughter and open-mouthed staring as she pointed at her brother-in-law with a brightly glowing finger, quite forgetting to keep the hand it belonged to hidden in her pocket. Angel glowered at her, then looked at Willow instead, obviously determined to avoid his wife's gaze and too preoccupied to have noticed Dawn's little problem, which had once again vanished within her pocket. Looking at Willow, however, did not help Angel's mood. Her hands were at her mouth and she was looking at him as though she were about to shrivel up from the sheer adorableness of his caricaturized felt form. He gave her the same offended glare he had given Dawn.

"Oh my God, Angel," said Buffy faintly. His eyes snapped to her, but not quickly enough for him to dodge out of the way before her arms clamped around him and pulled him tight against her in what would have been a bone-breaking hug if he'd still had a skeleton.

"Hey, put me down!" he protested indignantly.

"You're even cuter than Mr. Gordo!" she squealed, squeezing him even tighter and twisting happily from side to side.

"I HAD TO BECOME A PUPPET TO BE CUTER THAN MR. GORDO?" he bellowed in outrage, struggling against her. Dawn and Willow started to giggle. Buffy held Angel at arm's length as he flailed his puppet limbs, trying vainly to get down.

"What the—?" she said, alarmed, "Angel, I didn't mean it like that! Drop-dead gorgeous beats cute any day."

He scowled as well as he could with his simplified features, but stopped fighting her grip and muttered an apology in which the words "proportionate excitability" were distinguishable.

"H-how did this happen?" asked Dawn, the words coming out a little choked because she was still giggling.

"I don't know," Angel grumbled. It vexed him deeply that he couldn't say it through clenched teeth like he meant to, because he no longer _had_ teeth.

"O-oh!" said Willow, something stirring in her memory, "is it like with that dummy, uh, Sid?"

"Sid?" asked Angel distractedly, still brooding over his lack of teeth.

"Yeah, this demon hunter who got cursed and turned into a dummy," said Buffy, boarding Willow's train of thought.

"That's not how it happened last time. But whatever it was this time, we need to fix it _right_ _now_," he said fiercely. "I'm not doing three days of this humiliating crap again!"

"Again?" asked Buffy. "So _this_ is what you meant when you said you were an emotionally volatile _Sesame Street_ prop?"

In response, he glared balefully.

"How did it happen that time?" asked Willow.

"There were these demon puppets working for a show called _Smile Time_, and—"

"Ooh, I loved _Smile Time_!" said Dawn brightly. Angel glared daggers at her, and her smile faltered. "So, they were demons, huh?" she tried again uncomfortably.

"Yeah," he said forcefully, "and they turned me into _this_. Wes and Fred broke the nest egg thing that did it, and I went back to normal a couple days later."

"Do you think they rebuilt it or something?" asked Buffy.

"Not unless they rebuilt themselves too," Angel snickered. "We knocked the stuffing out of all of them!" He looked very pleased at his own wittiness. Buffy stopped herself from rolling her eyes with difficulty, but she did put him back down. He straightened his jacket with a noise of indignation and made to stride out of the office, but then seemed to remember that the lobby beyond it was full of people, and immediately retreated to hide behind Buffy, who looked at Dawn to exchange glances with her, but instead frowned.

"Why are you wearing glasses?" she asked.

Dawn went red and opened her mouth to answer, but didn't get the chance. Just then, Xander emerged from behind the curtain that concealed the portal to the Lost Archive, and at the same moment, the office door opened to admit the large gray and brown wolf that was Oz, who looked rather distressed and had his tail between his legs, and things immediately became much more chaotic. Angel, who had seen Xander first of the new arrivals, decided to pretend to be an inanimate object in order to preserve his dignity, but had barely gone limp when he spotted the wolf, at which he abandoned pretense and scrambled frantically up Buffy's body as if she were a tree until he reached her shoulders, the horrific memory of nearly getting torn to shreds by wolf-Nina lending him the strength to hang on despite Buffy's annoyed attempts to get him down.

Xander let out a cry of alarm at the sight of a large felt puppet climbing up and apparently strangling his best friend. Dawn ran towards him to try to explain and stop him from tackling them, but was impeded by the fact that the second she took her hands out of her pockets again, a new portal, this time ringed in aquamarine-colored light, appeared in midair around them. In a desperate attempt to restore a bit of order and sanity, Oz let out a very loud bark. Everyone froze and fell silent, except the portal, which gave a distant wail.

Oz looked at Willow. _I can't change back!_ he thought at her frantically, a series of high-pitched whimpers escaping him.

She ran to him, horrified. "Oh no! Are you sure?"

He nodded vigorously.

"What's up with him?" asked Xander.

"He's stuck as a wolf," said Willow worriedly. Buffy and Dawn looked at Oz in concern, but Xander turned his attention back to the thing hanging from Buffy's neck.

"And what is _that_?" he asked, pointing at Angel, who turned to glower at him, and he let out a shout of laughter. "Angel? Is that you?"

Angel wanted nothing better than to beat the crap out of him, but Buffy had finally succeeded in getting her arms around him again, and her grip was inescapable. All the while, Dawn pulled fruitlessly at the edges of the new portal, which continued to wail in a mocking sort of way.

Giles chose that moment to enter the office behind Xander. He looked around at the scene for approximately ten seconds, during which he appeared to develop a migraine, then took off his glasses and began to clean them on a handkerchief. "Has the whole world gone mad while I've been sorting books?" he inquired of no one in particular.

"It's a likely possibility," said Buffy, still firmly restraining Angel from pouncing on Xander—a much more difficult feat than she would have expected for dealing with a three foot, stuffing-filled felt person, while Xander continued to roar with laughter. But then, mid-laugh, he vanished with a loud popping noise.

"HA!" said Angel, punching the air with glee.

"Xander!" cried Buffy, Dawn, and Willow in unison.

"Oh dear," said Giles, replacing his glasses on his face. "He told me about that."

"All of this stuff is happening at the same time," said Willow, who was trying to keep Oz calm by way of continual ear-scratching. "Do you think it's all connected?"

"It's possible," said Giles. He fought to suppress a laugh at the sight of Angel, not wanting to make the poor man feel any more humiliated than he obviously already did. "Shall I run over to Willy's—er, The Lair, I mean, to see if he knows anything about some kind of generally…chaos-causing…something?" He grimaced at how pathetically vague that sounded.

"Oh, yeah, we're _definitely_ getting to the bottom of this right away," said Angel in disgust.

"Well, pardon me for wanting to help," said Giles with an uncharacteristic lack of patience. "I'll just let you carry on being an absurd little puppet-man indefinitely, then, shall I?"

"Ignore him!" said Buffy over Angel's renewed cries of outrage. "Giles, please?"

"Yes, yes, very well," he said, and he departed the office.

†

Xander was just as surprised to suddenly find himself in the kitchen as he had been when he popped into the Lost Archive. He spun around wildly, tripped over his own feet, and landed on the table—which turned out to be much less solid than it had been that morning when he ate breakfast. He fell through, unable to see what was happening due to the tablecloth now covering him like a checkered ghost costume with no eyeholes, and landed on an unpleasantly squishy surface. He beat the tablecloth away and emerged from it with tousled hair, to discover that the squishy surface was in fact a mountain of…shrimp?

†

Not long after Giles had gone, Buffy emerged from the office with the intention of sending everyone else in the hotel off to search the city for more clues, but was rather taken aback to find all of the Slayers, Watchers-in-Training, and Connor staring at her, many with their mouths hanging open.

"What?" she said, backing up half a step at all this scrutiny.

"What the 'ell is goin' on in there?" asked an English Slayer Faith had sent to them a couple of weeks ago. "What was that wolf what just ran down the stairs and through there?"

"Mr. Giles didn't tell us anything when he left," added Nigel.

"Oh, that, it's nothing," said Buffy, waving a hand dismissively. They weren't convinced. "Okay, so, not nothing, but with you guys' help, hopefully it _will_ be nothing…soon." She grimaced. "I want you all to partner up and head out. Hit all the mystical hotspots in the city you can think of. Look for anything that might have been able to cast some kind of chaos-causing spell. Report back immediately if you find something, and before three in the afternoon if you don't." They all continued to stare for a second, but then she raised her eyebrows and the trance seemed to break; the whole lobby was instantly a flurry of activity. Connor managed to wade through this to reach her.

"What's really going on?" he asked. "I heard a lot more than the rest of them."

Buffy groaned. "Where do I start? Oz is stuck as a wolf, Xander has some kind of random…teleportation sickness…thing, Dawn's Key power is going haywire, and Angel…" Out of respect for Angel's feelings, she didn't complete the sentence, but merely screwed up her face at the madness of the day.

"Can I help?" asked Connor. "And not with the wild goose chase you just sent everyone else on to get them out of the way," he added a little reprovingly.

She sighed. "Look, apart from Oz, you're the best tracker we've got. The best thing you can do is go with them."

"But Dawn," he protested, "maybe I can do something for her, or Angel—"

"Please, Connor?"

"Okay," he said, but he was plainly not happy about it.

"No, wait," said Buffy on a stroke of inspiration. "Go back up Giles. He went to The Lair. He might need some help getting information out of Willy." This had the desired effect, and Connor left looking much more satisfied with the task he'd been given. She watched them all go, and a wave of exhaustion swept through her.

"Everyone gone?" asked Willow from inside the office.

"Yeah," said Buffy. She turned to go back in, and then the exhaustion became distinctly sharper. "Oh…bad," she said, and then her knees gave out.

"Buffy!" cried Angel, rushing to her side, where he was immediately joined by Willow, Dawn (hands firmly in pockets again), and Oz. "I told you it wasn't nothing!" he said fretfully, for the moment more annoyed at his deficiency in the area of medical knowledge that could help her than he was about being turned into a puppet again. "We have to get you to a doctor."

"Or, maybe we just have to figure out what's going on with the rest of you," said Willow. "This is probably just the way the spell that got you guys is affecting Buffy."

_Any hits on your magic radar?_ thought Oz.

"I've been trying. At first I thought that something with effects this diverse would have to be pretty big, but I haven't been able to sense anything that could help us, like, say, the identity of the caster," said Willow apologetically. "Which makes me think it must have actually been a simple spell that the caster didn't originally come up with, because that's the only kind you can get away with doing so anonymously. And the problem with that is that it also means whoever did it doesn't even need to have a lot of power of their own, so it doesn't exactly leave us with a short list of suspects."

"But if it's just a simple spell, then doesn't that mean you can reverse it?" asked Dawn, talking over Angel's dark mutterings about how any spell that could turn him back into a puppet had to be the strongest, blackest magic out there.

"This thing works like a disease," said Willow. "I can't reverse the symptoms without specifically knowing what's causing them first, and 'a chaos spell' is way too general for me to work with."

"So, my 'symptom' is being feeble swoony girl?" said Buffy. "Great."

Willow tried to smile reassuringly. "Once we figure out the cause, reversing it'll be a piece of cake!"

†

Not wholly convinced that there was much point in doing so, Giles strode into The Lair. As he was traditionally the one who turned to books for answers, he had never been to interrogate Willy before, nor had he ever come to this club with everyone else on one of their party nights, so he didn't actually know what Willy looked like. Somehow, though, he was fairly certain that the wholesome-looking young man wiping glasses behind the bar was not the one he sought, but then his eyes fell upon an older, shorter, and much less wholesome-looking man fiddling with the till about twenty feet away. Convinced that he'd found his quarry, Giles walked purposefully forward. "Good day, Willy," he said once he reached the counter.

"And you yourself," said Willy. For a second, he looked happy about having a customer in his currently almost completely deserted pub, not to mention a polite one, but then it seemed to dawn on him that Giles had said his name. "We met before?"

"No, we have not. I'm Rupert Giles."

"Oh yeah, the Watcher from Sunnydale," said Willy, nodding. "If you were looking for those Italian guys, they just took off a couple of minutes ago. Seemed real happy, too."

"Oh, no, it's nothing to do with them," said Giles. "Do you have any knowledge about some kind of spell that could simultaneously have a rather wide variety of bedlam-inducing effects?"

Unnoticed by Giles, Tobias MacGowan was sitting within earshot just down the bar, thinking that here, it seemed, was just the opening he'd been hoping for. Not wanting to blow it, though, he waited, wishing this wasn't Tahn's day off so that she could be there to offer him support with her smiles.

"I haven't heard anything about that," said Willy, frowning.

"Indeed?" asked Giles, his face contorting with anger. "And you're not lying, hoping to get money for what you know like you've done with my charge and her friends for years?" His voice grew louder with every syllable and Willy was backing away, wide-eyed.

"I swear, I don't know anything!" he said shrilly.

"Please, Mr. Giles," said Tobias, moving closer to intervene before things got out of hand, though he was a little confused as to why they should be getting out of hand at all. "He might not know, but I do, and I know how to stop it. I—" He faltered as Giles turned to face him, and horror rooted him to the spot. A reddish gleam shone from Giles's eyes, and there seemed to be something dark writhing beneath his skin.

"_You_," he said, his voice a blood-chilling growl. He raised a hand towards Tobias, who saw that the fingers now ended in long, vicious claws. With a yell, Tobias felt the feeling come back to his legs and he backed hastily away, tripped over a stool, and went tumbling to the ground in a painful heap. He hadn't even gotten to his feet when Giles lunged at him with a snarl, looking even less human than he had a second before.

†

Connor knew something was wrong before he went inside, and his suspicions were confirmed the moment he crossed the threshold. He saw Giles, who looked almost nothing like the cool, book-loving man who'd been his and Dawn's chaperone in London, diving towards a young man who was struggling to get up from the ground while Willy fled into the back room and Charlie watched apprehensively, one hand straying beneath the counter to where a firearm of some kind was undoubtedly stashed. With inhuman speed, Connor sprinted forward, hooked an arm around Giles's neck from behind with inches to spare before his newly-sprouted claws could take Tobias's face off, and yanked him back with such force that he went flying several yards.

"Get out of here!" Connor shouted at Tobias.

"I can undo the spell," he said urgently.

"Then get to the hotel and undo it!" said Connor, who had no time to question his story, as Giles had gotten to his feet and was bearing down upon them again. "Now! Run!" Wisely, Tobias followed the advice, nearly falling over in his haste to get away.

"Need any help, kid?" asked Charlie.

"No, I'm cool," said Connor, catching hold of the stool Tobias had knocked over and swinging it up to collide with Giles's chin.

†

Buffy, Angel, Willow, Oz, and Dawn were all congregated on the sofas in the lobby, each with a spell book in front of them that hopefully contained the answer they sought. Angel grew progressively angrier every time he reached the end of a page and tried to flip to the next one despite the impediment of fingers with no grip whatsoever, with the result that he finally lost all patience and threw his book across the room. Oz, who had been calmly letting Willow turn his pages for him the whole time, growled, which sent Angel scurrying for cover behind Buffy again. Dawn's only attempt to turn her page had resulted in her book being lost to view by the portal that sprang into being on top of it.

All of this, combined with the worrisome question of where Xander was, meant that they hadn't exactly made much progress by the time the lobby doors burst open, and in came Bartolomeo and his men, followed by Alex, Cole, and Gunn. Angel immediately went limp, but not before Gunn spotted him. He looked first alarmed and then close to laughter, but didn't comment. "Well, I pulled it off," he said, grinning broadly.

"Pulled what off?" asked Willow, confused.

"Broke their contracts," he clarified, nodding at the Italians, who all responded to his words with many cheers, _grazie mille_s, and claps to Gunn's back that almost knocked him over. "Even Wolfram and Hart can't always close every loophole. Especially when they're not here to speak for themselves anymore."

"And now I am free to return to my Annabella!" cried Bartolomeo happily. Alex smiled. "I can never thank you enough," he went on exuberantly, pulling Gunn into a painfully tight hug and kissing him on both cheeks. Gunn moved out of range before the rest of them could copy their leader, but he had barely done so when the hotel's doors banged open again. More than twenty demons, looking rather odd in their neat business suits, streamed inside this time. Buffy and the others (including Angel) leapt up, while the Italians went from jubilant to furious in an instant.

"We killed you!" Bartolomeo shouted. "And we are free from your contracts!" He showed them his now symbol-free right forearm defiantly.

"Ah-ah-ah, Bartolomeo," said what appeared to be the lead demon calmly. His accent was also heavily Italian. "Killing us is not the answer, mio, and what do we care for contracts? Long have you been absent from your duties in Palermo." He tutted disappointedly. "Now is time for you and your friends to come home, I think, ah?"

With roars like bulls, Bartolomeo and his men charged at the demons. Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Oz, Angel, Gunn, Alex, and Cole exchanged a brief, stunned glance (which was slightly less brief for the lattermost two because of their confusion at Angel's appearance) before joining the fray.

"How did you try to kill them last time?" asked Angel in Italian.

"Machine guns," said Bartolomeo without looking at him, which was probably just as well.

"Try beheading this time," Angel advised, as Willow and Alex quickly distributed weapons to all of their allies who currently had hands.

Even without weapons of their own, the demons fought well, but Angel managed to take one out, first by cutting him down to a more manageable size with a sword swipe that amputated his legs at the knees, followed by a second swipe that sent his head rolling across the floor. Dawn accidentally got one with yet another portal she hadn't meant to make, for some horrific creature on the other side reached long wriggling tentacles through the shining hole, and the unfortunate demon was caught in its slimy clutches and pulled, screaming, from the dimension. Buffy beheaded another with the Scythe, but then was hit with another wave of dizziness, and her next swing buried the gleaming blade in a pillar, from which she was now too weak to free it. Reluctantly leaving it where it was, she staggered to the open weapons cabinet and seized a crossbow. She took aim at the demon Gunn and Cole were tag-teaming, but before she could pull the trigger, Xander appeared out of nowhere with a loud popping noise, covered from head to foot in shrimp. Willow tried to magically bind the demons, but she couldn't be sure she wouldn't accidentally hit someone on her side as well.

In the midst of all the pandemonium, Tobias came bursting into the lobby, yelling, "I can stop it, I can stop it!" He froze at the sight of the battle in front of him, then yelped and ducked just in time to avoid being beheaded by an axe that came whizzing towards him through the air. He turned to see it embed itself in the doorframe, only to let out an even louder yelp as the shadow monster that had previously been Giles came charging in through the doors, Connor hot on his heels. Once again, before Giles could get to Tobias, Connor tackled him.

Before anything _else_ had time to go wrong, Tobias shouted an incantation that was lost amid the cacophonic noise of the fight, but which was instantly effective. Xander was still covered in shrimp, but Angel was no longer a puppet, Dawn's hands stopped glowing and the accidental portals vanished, Oz found that whatever had been preventing his changing back to human form was gone (though, in interest of preserving his modesty and not ridding himself of his best weapons in the middle of the fight, he chose to remain as he was for the time being), Giles reverted to his usual self, and Buffy felt a good deal less dizzy, but the sight of Tobias didn't do much to improve her mood.

The remainder of the battle was won within minutes, and the demons' chances of coming back to life this time seemed satisfyingly negligible. Buffy turned to Bartolomeo and his men, intending to ask them to leave so that she and the rest of the Scoobies could deal with Tobias, but this proved unnecessary. Laughing triumphantly at their long-awaited complete victory over the demons who had enslaved them, and conversing raucously in Italian, they left the hotel in a pack without a backward glance, heedless of their wounds.

"Uh," said Alex, as she and Cole dithered on the threshold, "they just said they were going to go get completely plastered to celebrate, so I think we should maybe go be designated drivers." They departed hastily, which left a scene incredibly similar to one of six months previous, with Tobias surrounded by accusing glares. The only differences were the additions of Gunn, Connor, two and a half centuries of Angel's memory, and a score or so of dismembered demon corpses strewn across the floor. Oz had somehow managed to dart upstairs to transform back and get dressed, and now stood next to Willow, completely his usual stoic self again.

"I really thought you'd learned your lesson," said Buffy scornfully. "Did you honestly think that after what you pulled in May, we'd be stupid enough to fall for this?"

"No, I swear, it wasn't me!" said Tobias earnestly.

"Oh, really?" she said. "Then you'd better start explaining that one real fast, or I'm gonna start making good on some old threats."

"Look," he began, holding up his hands. He looked terrified but determined. "I was on my way here on Wednesday night around midnight to try and see if I could have a second chance. Tahn came with me; she wanted to help me plead my case. But when we got here, we saw someone dressed all in black sneaking in. It was hard to tell in the dark, but I think it was a woman. Tahn and I waited, and she came out again ten minutes later. We followed her to this rundown place, and she had all kinds of spell stuff set up. She added something to it that might have been hair, and I wrote down the incantation she used and took it to that magic shop I bought the talisman from, and they had another copy of the book with the spell she used, which was how I found out how to reverse the effects."

"If you saw who did it on _Wednesday_, how come it took you until _Friday_ to tell us?" asked Dawn.

"Well, I had to get the counter-spell, but the shops were all closed yesterday for Thanksgiving," he said sheepishly.

"And we're supposed to believe this woman A) existed and B) wasn't your accomplice?" Xander demanded, pulling a shrimp out of one of his ears.

"I've never seen her before in my life!" Tobias shouted, more angry than afraid now. "The old man at the shop, he said she bought her book and supplies there too. I asked him if he caught her name, and he said it was something like Matthews or Manson or—"

"Madison?" prompted Giles grimly.

"Yes!" said Tobias. His triumphant expression became one of confusion at the significant and alarmed glances everyone but Angel, Connor, and Gunn exchanged at this. "What?" he asked, but nobody was listening.

"AMY!" Willow bellowed at the top of her voice.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then a patch of air near the foot of the stairs shimmered, and Amy Madison appeared within it, twirling around her finger the medallion she had just taken off and laughing heartily.

"Nice cloaking spell," said Willow, folding her arms across her chest. "So I guess that means you've been watching the fun?"

"Oh, yeah," said Amy. "Picked this up with that nifty spellbook. Spell didn't work the way I wanted it to, but it was still a great show." She looked at Xander standing in the growing pile of shrimp that fell from his clothing as he wiped them loose, and then at Angel, and she smirked wickedly. Angel's lip curled, but now that he was back to normal, he was once more in control of his emotions and so did not rush to attack her. The subtle aura of power emanating from her wasn't nearly as strong as Willow's, but it was enough that he and everyone else in the room knew to tread with caution.

"Oh really?" said Willow. "What did you want it to do?"

Amy looked as though she didn't want to answer but knew she had no choice, and so played it as cool as she could. "It was supposed to find some insecurity and snowball it to turn you into a basket case like last time. I'm not complaining, though. Looks like it bounced off you and hit all your friends instead."

"And have you any idea what you almost unleashed because of that?" asked Giles, who, though furious, was extremely pale at the thought of how close he had come to being overwhelmed by the Living Darkness that had lain dormant within him since August.

Amy looked a little less amused about the consequences of her actions at his words, and Willow laughed. "Wow. Hey, nice try, though, but I think you should probably know that, since the last time you decided to screw with me, I got a couple thousand Slayers called, personally beat the crap out of the First Evil until it _ceased to be_, and made a tic-tac-toe board out of the face of a master vampire who was on a diet of Slayer blood. Plus," she took Oz's hand in one of hers and gestured at Buffy, Xander, and the rest with the other, "great support system, so not a whole lot of insecurities to exploit.

"I still feel kinda sorry about that whole three years as a rat thing," she went on, "but you just used up your third strike, and my sympathy won't get you another one. Try messing with me or any of them again, and I'll have you back in your little Habitrail before you can blink. Oh, and I think I'll keep _that_." She snapped her fingers, and the medallion Amy was holding sped across the lobby and into her hand. "Bye, now!" Amy struggled against whatever invisible force Willow was using on her, but her power was no match, and one violent flash of light later, she was gone.

"Where'd you send her?" asked Buffy.

"Some oasis in the Sahara Desert," said Willow indifferently. "I thought she could use a little vacation."

"Have I already mentioned how awesome you are this week?" asked Xander as Oz smirked and kissed her on the cheek. She grinned.

"So, uh," said Tobias nervously, but he fell silent and turned red when they all looked at him.

"Still wanna be a Watcher?" asked Buffy, leaning back contentedly as Angel wrapped his arms around her from behind.

A disbelieving smile slowly spread across Tobias's face, which brightened until it seemed sure to break his jaw when he saw Giles's nod of confirmation.

"Okay," said Connor, shattering the moment, his eyes on his father, evidently unable to contain himself, "was I seeing things, or were you really a _puppet_?"

Angel grimaced. Everyone else laughed, but their mirth became distinctly awkward when Buffy suggestively promised to help Angel forget about it later.

* * *

I imagine those last two lines as taking place after the cut to credits. PUPPET ANGEL! Oh, I had so much fun writing him. And Shrimpland! And reincarnated Simon/Kaylee, or something!_ ^_^_ I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it.


	13. 9x13: Gatecrashed

Episode 13: Gatecrashed

Guest Starring and/or Featuring (sort of): Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan

John Frances Daley as Leonard

Ryan Cartwright as Nigel

and

Harry Lennix (Boyd from _Dollhouse_) as Dr. Benson

†

Friday, December 17, 2004

"This the last of it?" asked Connor from behind a stack of boxes.

"Yeah," said Dawn, looking around her new room. The Quinns had offered to let her stay with them a while longer even though she was done with school, but she wanted to get into Watcher training full time, and that would be much easier to do at the hotel. Her only real regrets about leaving Palo Alto a semester early, besides leaving Isabelle and Matthew behind, were that Connor would still be there most of the time and Kaida wouldn't have any supernatural friends left to keep her from going mad with power from her pyrokinesis—although Connor had offered to help with the latter, so hopefully things where she was concerned wouldn't end with lots of arson.

Dawn frowned. Even with everything moved in, the room still looked fairly barren. Her possessions mostly consisted of clothes and books, since anything else with which she might once have filled her bedroom had either been lost along with the rest of Sunnydale or belonged to Isabelle's sister. The books had been acquired with the help of two birthdays, one Christmas, and most of the money she'd earned from various part-time jobs in between. Apart from the window, the only thing that really relieved the bareness of the walls was the large bookcase Xander had made her for a graduation present.

They spent the next few minutes putting the books on the shelves, and though their conversation was playful and flirtatious, Dawn felt increasingly nervous. They were, after all, alone in her room, something that had never happened in the year they'd been dating. They'd had quite a few heated make-out sessions in recent months; what would result from an opportunity like this, particularly as their time together would soon be much more limited than before? She felt sure Connor would notice her anxiety soon—or perhaps he had already; his sense of hearing was such that he could undoubtedly hear her heart hammering madly in her chest. However, if he did notice, he gave no sign of it. In fact, to her surprise and confusion, his actions were the complete opposite of what she had expected.

"Ugh, I'm sorry, but I'm scheduled for sparring for the next hour," he groaned, glancing at the clock on her dresser.

"Oh," said Dawn blankly. In the sudden absence of her nerves, she felt oddly disappointed. She was so taken aback that she didn't react to the kiss he gave her before leaving, tender though it was, and she sank down to perch on the end of her bed.

†

The dizzy spells had not stopped when Tobias broke Amy's spell. They weren't quite as bad now as they had been that day, but they were maddeningly persistent, as was a general sense of exhaustion, and Buffy had spent most of her time since they began trying to pretend they weren't happening—or, more to the point, trying to keep anyone else from noticing them. Unfortunately, while she had succeeded in this with most of the hotel's occupants—even Willow and Giles, she wasn't doing a very good job with Angel. She could hardly avoid him without raising suspicion now that they were married, shared living quarters, and spent most of their time in the same building, and he was a very keen observer, particularly when it came to her. If she so much as put her hand on a wall to steady herself while within his line of vision, he'd be at her side in a flash in an (admittedly adorable) combination of worry and gallantry, insisting that she sit down and drink large quantities of water until the dizziness passed. He was also, with increasing insistence, suggesting that she go to a doctor, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was terrified of what they might tell her, and even though she knew it was a stupid strategy if her unspoken fears were true and she really did have something like what her mom had, she was determined to try the "ignore it and maybe it'll go away" approach for now.

But she didn't have time to worry about that at the moment, anyway. Dawn had graduated from high school the previous day, and to compensate for the lack of an actual ceremony beyond the principal giving her a diploma, Buffy was determined to throw her a party in proper commemoration of the important milestone. According to Oz's party scale, Dawn's party would fall somewhere between shindig and hootenanny. The Hyperion's ballroom (which, along with the lobby and basement, was mostly used for sparring space these days) now contained a large quantity of balloons and crepe paper streamers in the PALY colors. Most of this had been done by the Watchers-in-training, for Buffy had been careful to stage a loud conversation with Giles down in the Lost Archive about her plans for Dawn's party when she knew many of them were in hearing range. The result was that mere hours later, all of the work was done, and the only cost to Buffy was having to endure the irritating smugness of those responsible.

It was shortly after Buffy returned to the hotel with several grocery bags full of candy that the place received an uninvited guest. Without sparing so much as a glance for the sparring pairs scattered around the room (even though many of them had paused to stare at him), he walked up to the lobby counter and leaned casually against it.

"Can I help you?" asked Buffy absentmindedly, her focus largely upon the bowls on the counter into which she was distributing candy.

"I certainly hope so," he said in a rich, deep voice. He also had a slight Italian accent. Buffy looked up and was a little dazed by how absurdly beautiful the man was. His black hair hung in loose curls around his face, his eyelashes were thick and long, and his skin was smooth and tan and seemed to kind of…glow? Though he wore what was clearly a ridiculously expensive suit, it was still apparent that he had very nice muscles underneath it. There was something familiarly inhuman about his startling perfection, but Buffy couldn't quite place it. Then it registered with her that he had just said something rather suggestive—or at least something neutral in a decidedly suggestive tone, and annoyance replaced astonishment as her dominant emotion.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" she asked flatly, privately thinking that it would be very helpful if Angel chose this moment to turn up out of nowhere and wrap his arms around her as he so frequently did.

"I am Bracchion," said the newcomer with a lazy smirk. Buffy thought she'd heard that name before, but couldn't remember where. "I understand that you have had trouble with some of the people of my dear country. I felt obligated to come here myself and ensure that no animosity remains."

"Nope," said Buffy. "No animosity here." _Yet_, she added mentally. Gorgeous as he was, something about him reminded her of Parker, and things that reminded her of Parker tended to automatically lose all points.

"I am delighted to hear it," he said sincerely. "I could not have borne it if the ill-advised actions of my countrymen had turned the fine people of this establishment against all of us."

"How thoughtful," said Buffy. To her relief and delight, Angel did in fact turn up at that point, but she became slightly alarmed when she saw his expression. Though he took one of her hands firmly in his, he wasn't looking at her; his eyes were fixed on Bracchion, and he looked very much like he wanted to growl the way he'd been able to before regaining his humanity.

"Why, Angel! I had no idea I would find you here as well!" cried Bracchion jovially.

"Really?" asked Angel in cold skepticism. "This is the headquarters of my business."

"Oh! I didn't think you would be doing so well now that Wolfram e Hart is gone," he said with a sweeping gesture to indicate the lobby.

Angel glared.

"You two know each other?" asked Buffy out of the corner of her mouth.

"Unfortunately," said Angel through gritted teeth. "He's the Immortal."

"Well," said Bracchion, who thankfully did not seem to have noticed their little aside, "it has been a long journey. Where might I find refreshment?"

It was difficult for Buffy (and impossible for Angel) to hide a scowl. Who did he think he was, showing up randomly, flirting with her and insulting Angel, and then assuming they would feed him? Before either of them could answer (or punch him), Nigel appeared, clearly eager to reinforce his status as a ridiculous sycophant.

"I'll show him to the kitchen, shall I?" he said. "Excellent! This way, please, sir." With that, he led Bracchion away. Giles appeared at the door of the office and his narrowed eyes followed them until they were out of sight.

†

Not wanting to stay by herself in her room any longer, Dawn eventually wandered back downstairs and into the lobby, where she was almost immediately accosted by Tobias.

"Hey, Dawn, can I invite Tahn to the party?" he asked eagerly.

Dawn shot an uncomfortable glance at her sister. "I don't think that's a good idea." When Tobias looked crestfallen, she lowered her voice and explained, "Oh, no, it's not that I don't want her here; it's just that I kind of invited someone who doesn't know anything about demons, and hopefully I can keep it that way."

"Oh," he said. Then, glancing over her shoulder, he went on, bemused, "Uh…I think you might find that a little difficult."

Dawn spun around to face the same direction as him and froze, her mouth falling open.

"Hello, Los Angeles!" It was Andrew, and he was accompanied by no fewer than twenty-five demons, all of which happened to be the same kind as Tahn, though most were males (and as such, their skin was more blue than purple, and small horns poked up through their hair). The tough black material of their clothing made them look ready for battle, and they all carried heavy packs.

"Uh, Andrew?" said Buffy. "What's with the entourage?"

"They want to join us in our noble cause!" he said happily. "They teamed up with some of my Slayers to clean out a vamp nest of epic proportions last week, and now they want to do more."

"Okay…," said Buffy, sounding a little wrong-footed, especially when the demons all simultaneously fixed their slit-pupiled gazes on her. "Well, uh, it's always great to have more allies, and I don't think anyone's using the rooms on the fifth floor yet."

"Thank you," said the one standing next to Andrew—the leader, probably. The demons began to file up the stairs. A babble of talk broke out in the lobby at their departure, and amidst this excitement, Dawn made her way to Andrew.

"Yes, young one?" he asked once she reached him.

Dawn scowled at him, but didn't comment. "Can you make sure those demon guys stay out of sight this evening? There's going to be a, uh, Muggle at the party."

"Sure," he said.

"Thanks."

†

If Buffy thought that her dealings with Bracchion were over, she was sadly mistaken. No sooner had she walked to the ballroom to place the candy bowls on all of the tables than he appeared at her side.

"What do you want?" she asked testily.

"But you are Buffy Summers!" he cried dramatically. "You did not tell me before! I only had it from the young fellow who escorted me to the kitchen. What an honor! Even in Italy, your name has gained an impressive amount of infamy within the demonic community."

"That's great, but it's Buffy Gallagher now," she said coolly.

Bracchion didn't seem to have heard her. "After hearing all the rumors," he said with a laugh in his voice, "I half expected to meet a hulking brute of a woman, but you, my dear, are one of the most delicate, elegant signorinas of my acquaintance." He took her right hand in his and raised it to his lips to place a rather exaggerated kiss upon it. When he didn't release it after a few seconds, Buffy tugged it back in irritation.

"Yeah, well, this 'delicate, elegant signorina' is happily married," she said, growing more annoyed by the second. She paused thoughtfully. "So that's _signora_ to you."

"Oh, indeed?" he asked, without the slightest indication in his tone that her words had deterred him. On the contrary, he seemed to view them as a challenge. "How can you be sure that you are as happy as you deserve to be? I assure you, Signorina, that you would find nothing lacking with me."

Utterly incensed, Buffy wanted very much to slap him, but before she could, Angel entered, holding the bag of candy in one hand and a stack of the remaining empty bowls in the other, and a better idea occurred to her. Sidestepping Bracchion, she walked purposefully towards Angel, who did not immediately notice her coming because he was too busy trying to find out whether or not there was any chocolate in the bag.

"You left these in the lobby," he said. "I figured I could help you fini_mmf_."

The end of his sentence was cut off out of nowhere by Buffy, who was suddenly kissing him with a level of enthusiasm she didn't usually show when they weren't alone in their room. His preoccupation about the candy evaporating on the spot, Angel dropped everything he was holding and returned the kiss with equal passion. It went on until they were both breathless, and then Buffy broke away, though she did not remove her arms from around his neck and remained as tightly pressed against him as before.

"Thanks for the offer," she said, looking at Bracchion—who, she was delighted to see, seemed to have traded a little of his swaggering poise for huffy displeasure—, "but I really couldn't be happier."

"You are fortunate," he said stiffly.

"Oh, wow!" came an excited voice from behind them. They turned to see Andrew on the threshold, his eyes fixed on Bracchion in awe. "Last time I saw you, you were in Italy!"

"What were _you_ doing in Italy?" asked Buffy, frowning. "I thought you've been in Central America and/or Canada since Sunnydale collapsed."

Andrew went red. "Well, yeah, mostly. I might have made a little side-trip to the lovely Italia, though."

"Going halfway around the world without telling anyone isn't a side-trip," said Buffy in exasperation. "What, did you just leave Kennedy with all of the Slayers to look after while you went on vacation?"

"I saw him when I was there too," said Angel, looking at Andrew with dislike. This boy's fabrications about Buffy had been the cause of a fair amount of heartache in the final months of his tenure at Wolfram and Hart.

"And you met him?" said Buffy, eyes on Andrew, head jerking in Bracchion's direction.

"Not in person," said Andrew. "I'm just a fan." He looked at Angel, in whose arms she was still wrapped, and his expression became confused. "I thought you were going to choose Spike, 'cause, you know, he's the cool one, and all."

Buffy clenched a hand tightly in the material of Angel's shirt so he wouldn't retaliate. Not dignifying Andrew's words with a response, she turned to Bracchion again. "We'll leave you to enjoy your fanclub." And she pulled Angel from the room.

"I _hate_ that guy!" he finally burst out once they were well out of earshot.

"Which one?" asked Buffy dryly.

"The Immortal!" he said in agitation, unaware of her amusement. "Or Bracchion, or whatever. Always all smug and entitled and with the prissy suits."

"This grudge sounds old," she observed.

"Hundred years, give or take a few decades."

"Oh, so it's a grudge that transcends soul-having. Must be pretty serious."

He stopped and looked at her shrewdly. "You think it's stupid."

"I've seen enough of him in all of five minutes to know that he's kind of a cretin under all that charm, but I think you're letting him get to you too much. He's an ego on legs. He's not worth it."

Angel smiled. "I love you."

"Now, that's _way_ more fun to hear than anti-Immortal rants."

"How much time until Dawn's party starts?" he asked, his voice huskier than before.

"Not enough for _that_."

He pouted, but soon looked agitated again. "_You_ don't think Spike is the cool one, do you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.

†

"Triennia!" Giles called loudly, bookshelf after towering bookshelf on the ground floor of the Archive flashing by as he walked as fast as he could without breaking into a trot. "Are you still down here?"

"Rupert," came her telltale resonating voice from behind him, causing him to jump violently.

"Good Lord," he said, putting a hand over his heart and turning around. "You certainly know how to keep a man on his toes."

"My apologies," she said, inclining her head. "You wished to see me?"

"Indeed," he said, nodding. "You were cursed by a fellow Immortal, yes?"

"I was."

"What is his name?"

"Bracchion," she said, her lip curling slightly.

Giles was hardly conscious of removing his glasses and cleaning them on his handkerchief. "He's at the Hyperion."

Triennia's large blue eyes widened and she stepped backward unsteadily. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. He arrived not half an hour ago," said Giles, waving the hand holding his glasses vaguely. "Some rubbish about not wanting our recent dealings with Signore Romano and the demons extorting him and his fellows to damage our opinion of Italians in general."

"Then he has made that land his home, has he?" she asked, sounding rather bitter.

"So it would seem," said Giles, frowning. "You will, erm, be taking this opportunity to persuade him to lift the curse, yes?"

"I know Bracchion. He will not be persuaded."

"But surely—that was thousands of years ago. How can you know he hasn't changed for the better in all that time?"

A humorless smile crept across her face. "We Endless are not quite as malleable as mortals."

Giles's frustration was mounting. He hated the curse more than he had ever hated anything in his life. Nothing had ever made him so afraid of himself. _Nothing_. Not even getting turned into a Fyarl demon. His dreams were filled nightly with terrible visions of himself being overpowered by the curse and slaughtering everyone he cared about, only to regain control too late. Surely Triennia felt the same way? How, therefore, could she decline the chance, even if it was slim, to be free of it at last?

"Pardon my obstinacy," he said, putting his glasses back on and making an effort to sound calm, "but I feel I must remind you that your fate is no longer the only one at stake in this matter." She stiffened, but said nothing. He went on. "I have no intention of remaining subject to this—this _thing_ for the rest of my life. I will attempt to convince him myself if I must, but I would greatly appreciate your assistance since, as you say, _you_ know him."

They stared at each other for a long time, and then, just when Giles shook his head in disgust and made to leave without her, she spoke. "I have not left this Archive in centuries, but…I will help you."

†

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Willow sternly over the sound of the music in the ballroom. Leonard jumped and hastily stepped away from the punch bowl, trying to look innocent. Willow raised her eyebrows at him and held out a hand. With a very sour expression, he handed over the bottle with which he'd been about to spike the punch. "Are _you_ even twenty-one?" she asked. "Because I don't think you're twenty-one." He went red and walked away without answering.

About fifteen feet to Willow's right, Dawn was surrounded by people offering their congratulations and was starting to feel slightly claustrophobic. She searched the crowed anxiously, and was disappointed not to see the face she was looking for, but she felt a surge of relief when she spotted Xander, and made her way quickly over to him and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back, grinning.

"So how's the bookcase working out for you?" he asked when they broke apart.

"It's great!" she said brightly. "Best graduation present ever. I've still got lots of room on it, too."

"How did I get surrounded by all of these bookworms?" he asked dramatically. She laughed.

"Hey, Xander!" Andrew seemed to have come out of nowhere. Xander grimaced.

Dawn giggled. "Oh, look, there's Willow!" she said, pointing.

"Don't leave me!" Xander pleaded.

"Sorry," she said, and vanished into the crowd again.

"So, where's that hottie girlfriend of yours?" asked Andrew, looking around. "I've got the Timothy Dalton Bond movies with me, and I'm not leaving until she's watched all of them and admitted his ultimate superiority."

"All two, you mean?" asked Xander, trying not to wince at the mention of Renée.

"He was supposed to do three!" Andrew protested. "There was a stupid legal battle between MGM and EON, and then we were forced to endure Pierce Brosnan instead."

Xander, not in the mood to deal with Andrew at the moment, decided to resort to drastic measures. "Andrew?"

"What?"

"_Star Wars Holiday Special_."

"Augh!" cried Andrew, clutching his head in both hands. "It burns us! Why, George Lucas, why? At least _Episode I_ had pod-racing and _Episode II_ had…less Jar Jar. What was he thinking? Wookiees live in magestic yet primitive cities in the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk, not hideously mutated '70s-style treehouse-flats, and they _don't_ watch mind-scarring cooking shows and music videos! And nothing can ever make up for the traged—_travesty_ that is cartoon Han. Ugh, now I've gotta play KotOR and watch the OT to get this out of my head!"

Smirking, Xander left him there to continue his anguished rant to an unsuspecting Oz, who had just walked up.

†

"So, what's your plan now that you're free of high school?" asked Willow.

"I applied to lots of different places, but Connor pretty much has me sold on the superiority of Stanford," said Dawn. "I'm gonna wait until the fall semester to start, though, and I'll do Watcher stuff until then."

"I bet Giles is so proud," said Willow, smiling.

"Yeah, he got all gruff and teary when I told him." She looked around vaguely and spotted Connor, who was having what appeared to be an animated conversation with the same blonde Slayer she'd seen him sparring with before Amy's spell took effect. She hastily turned back to Willow to escape making eye contact with him. "Have you seen Buffy?" she asked, interrupting whatever Willow had been saying.

Willow broke off, startled. "Uh, not recently," she said, looking around. "Oh, wait, over there." She pointed, and Dawn looked over to see Buffy and Angel emerging from the little back hallway that led to the kitchen, both rather red-faced and tousle-haired. "Are you sure you want to talk to her right now?" said Willow, making a valiant effort to keep a straight face. "She seems kinda…distracted."

"It's my party," said Dawn, embarrassed but determined. She had barely started to wade her way through the crowd when Xander emerged from it on another side.

"When did Andrew get here?" he asked.

"Uh, 'bout an hour ago with a whole bunch of little boys blue," said Willow. "Why?"

"Because he's in rare form today," he said, rolling his eye. "Avoid at all costs." He noticed the bottle she was holding. "Hey, does that have alcohol in it?"

"Yeah, Leo tried to spike the punch with it."

"Oh, awesome." He took it from her.

"Hey! You're not gonna drink it, are you?"

"What else would I do with it?" He thought for a moment. "Other than light it on fire, I mean. And there was you thinking I never paid attention in chemistry class."

"Xander…."

†

Oz watched Andrew in mild curiosity as he continued his very one-sided conversation. It took nearly a whole minute before he actually noticed who he was standing next to. His eyes widened. "You're the werewolf from Xander and Renée's online graphic novels!"

"Yep," he said.

"That is so awesome. Are you as monosyllabic as you are in there?"

"Mostly."

"What's it like being a werewolf?"

Shrug.

"Are you part of an underground war between the lycans and the vampyres?"

"Pretty sure that's fictional."

"What does it feel like to transform?"

Frown.

"Do you have a pack?"

"Not really." _Is it a pack when there are only two members who kinda want to kill each other?_

"Are you the alpha?"

Shrug.

"Did you become a werewolf genetically or from a bite?"

"Kinda both."

"What?"

†

"Buffy!" said Dawn.

"Dawn, hey! How do you like the party?" said Buffy breathlessly, elbowing Angel in the ribs.

"It's great," said Dawn. "Can I talk to you somewhere else, though?"

"Uh, okay. Now?"

Dawn made an impatient noise, seized Buffy by the wrist, and dragged her away from Angel. She didn't stop until they reached the currently empty basement and shut the door firmly behind them.

"What's up?" asked Buffy, somewhat alarmed.

"I need to talk to you," said Dawn.

When she wasn't immediately forthcoming about the reason and instead became rather fidgety, Buffy folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. "About what?" she asked.

Dawn winced. "Connor," she said.

"Thought so," said Buffy. She decided to be blunt. "Do you love him?"

"What?" Dawn yelped. Buffy only looked at her, eyebrows still raised, waiting. Dawn sighed. "I don't know. I think so. I don't really have anything to compare this to. He's my best friend, and I care about him a lot. And I think he feels the same way, but we've been going out for a year. What if he expects more? I'm not ready to—to sleep with him." Her face went beet red.

"Has he tried anything?" asked Buffy angrily. "Because Angel's son or not, I'll beat the crap out of him if he's messing with my sister."

"No!" said Dawn in alarm. "No, it's nothing like that. He hasn't been pressuring me at all. And…well, that's kind of what I don't get. At first, I thought it was maybe because I was still underage and he didn't want to risk getting in trouble, but I've been eighteen for months now, and—" She broke off with a pained expression. "It's just, I've seen him sparring with some of the Slayers, and they're all as strong as him, and maybe I'm not good enough." She hadn't quite meant to say that last part, but it was out there now, and there was no taking it back.

"So you're worried because he _hasn't_ tried anything?" asked Buffy, trying not to sound amused.

"Well, aren't guys usually a lot more impatient about that than girls?" said Dawn in mild desperation.

"Angel waited for me," said Buffy simply. "If he was impatient, I definitely didn't know about it."

"Yeah, but you two are like soulmates," said Dawn dismissively. "What if it's not me Connor wants?" she asked in a small voice. "And now that I'm done with high school, I want to do more Watcher stuff before I start college next fall, so I won't even be in the same city as him all the time. With the distance on top of everything else, maybe I should just—"

"Dawn," said Buffy firmly, placing both hands on Dawn's shoulders, "I don't want you thinking that the only way to keep him interested is to do something you're not ready for. If that was true, he wouldn't be worth it. Connor's a great guy, and as far as I can tell, he's as noble as his father. I've seen the way he looks at you, and I don't think you have anything to worry about, but if it's bothering you this much, just talk to him."

Dawn sighed. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Buffy's hands dropped from her shoulders and she drew a shaky breath, closing her eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked Dawn.

"I'll be fine, just give me a minute," said Buffy, leaning back against the wall. "Go back to the party."

Reluctantly, Dawn left her there. She went back to the noisy ballroom and looked anxiously through the crowd (which had now reformed into a large cluster of dancing couples), but the person she was looking for still wasn't there. Disappointment washed over her again.

"Hey!" It was Connor.

"Oh," said Dawn. "Hey."

"Wanna dance?"

She smiled and took his hand.

†

It wasn't long after Dawn's departure that Buffy sincerely regretted suggesting it, for no sooner had she returned to the lobby than she ran into Bracchion again.

"Miss Summers, are you unwell?" he asked, looking at her much-paler-than-usual complexion intently.

"_Mrs. Gallagher_," she snarled, snatching her arm away (for he had been about to take it in order to assist her), "and yes, I'm _fine_." Before he could say another word, she stalked off towards the ballroom, stubbornly ignoring the little blue lights popping in front of her eyes. To her intense vexation, Bracchion caught up with her a few seconds later. Didn't this guy take a hint? Ignoring him, she broke into a run and finally reached the ballroom, but had to stop to catch her breath. She saw Angel not far away, and her anger melted into nothingness.

"You know," said Bracchion, noticing where she was looking, "he may be handsome now, but it won't last forever. Now that he's mortal, he's going to grow old."

"I know," said Buffy, smiling tenderly. "I can't wait."

"BRACCHION!" came a thunderous voice from behind them. All music, conversation, and dancing in the ballroom ceased almost instantly, and everyone turned to see Triennia framed in the doorway, with Giles half a step behind her. Buffy gasped. _That_ was where she'd heard his name before! How could she have forgotten?

"Triennia!" said Bracchion into the sudden silence with every appearance of great delight. "What a wonderful surprise this is!"

She looked beyond furious. "How dare you. You would look me in the eyes after what you did to me? How many of the innocents who died because of what you did can you see in them, I wonder?"

"Yes, a great pity. You know all of that could have been easily avoided."

"And more of it can be just as easily prevented if you would end this folly and lift the curse."

"Why should I do that?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Well, for one thing, she isn't the only one cursed anymore," said Giles angrily, pushing up his right sleeve to show the long scars still etched on the skin there. Bracchion's unaffected manner became slightly less so. "If I'm not mistaken," Giles continued, "your actions were driven by motives rather more personal than a desire to create a contagious malediction."

"They were," he said. "And I regret that you have become entangled in our private misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" repeated Triennia, incensed. "The only misunderstanding was your childish inability to understand my rejection."

"Wow, they're like the Phantom and Christine!" said Andrew dreamily. The people around him gave him odd looks. Blushing, he amended, "Or…like Wolverine and Jean Grey?"

"If you truly wish me to lift the curse, then I require compensation," said Bracchion.

"How can you ask for that?" said Buffy loudly. "The whole thing is your fault!"

"What kind of compensation?" asked Giles quickly.

"Well, my dear Triennia, you know that this entire matter may be put to rest in an instant if you would but consent to—"

"You know very well that I will do nothing of the kind, Bracchion. If I had no desire to be with you at the time of your first asking, then the idea repulses me a hundred fold more after spending millennia trapped in the accursed form to which you condemned me. You are a disgrace to our people. Was your wounded ego truly worth the destruction that resulted from your curse?"

"Not if it failed to change your mind," he said, obviously annoyed. Then an idea seemed to occur to him. "But perhaps there can be an alternative." He turned to face Buffy. Angel, noticing this and guessing what Bracchion had in mind, snarled and forced his way through the crowd until he was at her side. Disregarding this completely, Bracchion voiced his intentions. "Miss Summers could take your place."

"_Mrs. Gallagher!_" Buffy and Angel shouted in unison.

Bracchion looked amused. "Whatever," he said.

"You expect me to cheat on my husband, who is standing _right here_, when I've been telling you—figuratively, at least—to go get bent since I first met you?" Buffy demanded furiously.

"Not if I can do anything about it," piped up Willow from beside the buffet table. She pointed her hand at Bracchion, intending to send him away like she had done to Amy, but nothing happened, and her triumphant expression became frustrated.

"We Immortals are immune to magic," said Triennia apologetically. "It is why we cannot use it ourselves."

"Yes," Bracchion agreed smugly, "and before the rest of you try other coercive means, you should know that we can't be killed either."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," said Xander and Oz together.

Willow stamped her foot and looked helplessly at Buffy.

"Well?" said Bracchion expectantly.

Buffy snorted. "No."

Bracchion sighed. "Then I have no reason to release Triennia and your angry friend."

She gasped. "Giles!" She glared at Bracchion. "How can you _do_ this? He never did anything to you! You can't—just because I won't—and now…you're all…blurry, and…." Her eyes rolled and her knees buckled.

†

Buffy blinked. Everything was still very blurry, but it was oddly…white, and sterile. _Oh, no_. She tried to sit up, but something pushed her back down, and an unfamiliar female voice said, "Please try to relax, Mrs. Gallagher. You're going to pull out your IV."

"What am I doing here?" she asked thickly, wanting nothing more than to flee.

"You fainted and your husband brought you in. We're waiting for the test results."

"T-test results?" she squeaked. "What tests? And why do I need an IV?"

"It's just a saline solution, Mrs. Gallagher. You were dehydrated."

†

With Angel, Dawn, Giles, Xander, Willow, Oz, and Connor all there, the tiny waiting room was rather crowded. It might not have felt quite so uncomfortable if they had been sitting in the hard plastic chairs along the walls, but they were too restless for that. Every time a nurse showed up, one or more of them would demand information about Buffy, but so far, they hadn't received any answers besides various paraphrasings of "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the doctor."

Trying to focus on something besides his panic about Buffy, Angel walked over to Giles, but the Watcher seemed to guess what was on his mind before he could open his mouth.

"I would never ask Buffy to do something like that for me, and I'd be appalled if she had agreed. As much as I'd like to be free of the curse, it is manageable, and I won't have you or her feeling guilty about refusing something as absurd as Bracchion's deal."

Angel nodded, lost for words.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, but this time it wasn't a nurse—nor was it a doctor. It was Hank Summers.

"Dad!" said Dawn. Letting go of Connor's hand, she ran to him and hugged him while everyone else watched blankly. "How did you know we were here?"

"Someone at the hotel told me. I'm sorry I got to your party so late, Dawnie. What happened to Buffy?"

"She passed out," said Angel.

"Yeah, and she's been getting dizzy a lot for weeks now," said Willow.

Hank stared at them, a curious expression on his face, almost as if he was trying not to grin.

"Are those symptoms familiar to you, Mr. Summers?" asked Giles.

"In a way," said Hank, glancing briefly at Angel and then looking back at Giles. "Joyce had the same symptoms."

"What?" asked Willow shrilly.

"What do you mean?" demanded Xander. "Buffy has a brain tumor?"

"What?" said Hank, bewildered. "No! I'm talking about before that." He glanced at Dawn. "Almost nineteen years ago. And twenty-four."

Most likely because of panic, nobody seemed to understand what he was getting at—except Oz, whose eyes widened slightly. Before the rest of them had a chance to do the math and realize what it meant, a clipboard-wielding doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Gallagher?" he said. Unused to being addressed thus, it wasn't until Connor poked Angel in the back that he registered that he was the one meant. He stepped forward, feeling a mixture of sheepishness and anxiety. The doctor extended his hand, and Angel shook it, feeling sick. "Good evening, Mr. Gallagher. I'm Dr. Benson. If you could come with me, please?" Angel nodded mutely and followed him. His mouth was extremely dry, and his heart was pounding with uncomfortable force.

The walk to Buffy's room seemed to take a very long time, but then there she was, and apart from looking nervous and unhappy about her current surroundings, she appeared to be completely fine. She smiled when she saw him and he hurried past the doctor until he was at her side. "Hey," he said, taking her hand in his.

"Hey," she echoed, before looking past him at the doctor. Her grip on Angel's hand tightened considerably, but he didn't wince. "S-so," she said, trying to sound casual, "what's wrong with me?"

"Wrong?" Dr. Benson chuckled. "There's nothing wrong with you, but we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other over the next several months."

"What? Why? What are you talking about?" asked Angel, feeling annoyed at this lightheartedness, which was, in his opinion, completely uncalled for.

Dr. Benson chuckled again. Buffy glared at him. "Just tell us already!" she burst out.

"Okay," he said, an enormous grin spreading across his face. With a flourish, he pulled a sonogram free from his clipboard and flipped it over so they could see it. "You're going to have a baby."

Both of their mouths fell open as they struggled to comprehend what he had said. Luckily for Angel, there was a chair just behind him for him to sink into. Then Buffy reached wordlessly for the sonogram, which Dr. Benson handed over gladly. Within seconds, she had located and begun tracing her thumb over a white shape on it that vaguely resembled an oversized gummy bear.

"That's a baby?" Angel whispered. Neither of them noticed that Dr. Benson had left them alone in the room.

The silence was broken by a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob that tore its way out of Buffy's throat. Angel looked at her and realized as he did that his vision was suddenly blurry with tears.

"I'm awake, right?" she gasped. "This is real? I'm not still asleep?"

Angel stroked the hand that wasn't still holding hers along her jaw. "Unless I'm dreaming too, it's as real as the last time you asked me a question like that." He leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead, then resumed staring at the sonogram with her in awe.

For a long time, it did not occur to them to share the news with everyone else.

†

Reno, Nevada

"No, no, no!" Drusilla moaned. "Not again. I can't bear it. Why must they punish me so? Haven't I been a good girl?"

"It's not real, ducks," said Spike in dull resignation. "It's never real. It's all in your head."

"No!" she said. Her sudden fury surprised him. The next second, however, it had gone, and in its place was terrified a helplessness that alarmed him even more. "Help me, Spike. I can't—not alone. They're coming."

He couldn't think of anything to do but gather her into his arms. Somehow, he didn't think this and her other recent ramblings were as meaningless as usual. Her visions were distressing her fragile mind far more than anything else ever had, and she was voicing them more urgently and less comprehensibly than usual.

"They didn't finish it," she whispered, clutching handfuls of his shirt, "but now everything is going to be much worse than if they had. Our friends think it's over. They don't know. Why does no one know? The stars are quite insistent, my dear Spike, but I fear I am the only one who hears them. How ignored they must feel! I shall have to throw a party for them. Perhaps if there are enough guests, all will not be lost."

"Perhaps," he said absently, his brow furrowed. It took him all of an instant to make up his mind. Pasting a smile onto his face, he eased her out of his embrace and held her gently at arm's length. "How would you like to go visit a friend of mine, love?"

She smiled brilliantly. "Oh, yes, I would like that very much. Is he a nice friend?"

"He is. Bit of a strange bloke, but very nice." He frowned. "Could be hard to find. Not sure where he went after—well. We'd best start looking, then, hadn't we?"

* * *

Will provide commentary later. Oddly blank at the moment. Oh, except that I pretty much picture The Immortal as looking rather similar to Josh Groban. *shrug* Reviews, as you know, would be most heartily appreciated. Especially as it's Christmas. Cheers!


	14. 9x14: It's a Wonderful Life

Episode 14: It's a Wonderful Life

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood

†

Friday, December 24, 2004

Xander didn't want to get out of bed. And, technically, he didn't have to. He had Christmas Eve off from work, as well as the upcoming weekend. He could sleep as long as he darn well pleased. But, no, it was Christmas Eve! He couldn't just sleep. There was going to be a party and presents in the lobby later on, and he wasn't sure he'd be _allowed_ to miss that. It'd be way too Scrooge-y of him. His stomach chimed in then with a loud growl, and he knew the battle was lost. He got up, showered, shaved, dressed, and put on his eye-patch, then walked to the kitchenette and opened his fridge. Which was empty. He grunted in annoyance, shut the fridge, and shuffled somewhat listlessly from the room.

On his way to the stairs, he passed one of the demons now living on the fifth floor, who offered him a friendly smile and "Good morning!", both of which he failed to return with equal zeal. He was almost all the way to the kitchen when he became conscious of the fact that a great deal of noise, which sounded like it was mostly being made by delighted girls, was coming from the lobby. Curious, he bypassed the kitchen and went to investigate.

What he found in the lobby, next to the large Christmas tree that had been put up a few days ago by popular demand (and unusual but perhaps understandable amounts of enthusiasm from Angel), was a cluster of what appeared to be every single female in the hotel, and possibly even a few from the Academy in Cleveland. Angel, Oz, Giles, Gunn, Connor, and Wood all stood off to the side, talking and laughing and every now and then clapping Wood on the back. Andrew was dancing around the girls with his camera, trying fruitlessly to get through to the center of the group. A few Watchers-in-training wandered about, occasionally glancing at the commotion with vague curiosity, but for the most part sticking to their work in a rather pointed sort of way, as if they hoped Giles would praise them for not succumbing to the frivolity going on around them.

Xander craned his neck to try to see what the source of all the excitement was. He could see Buffy, Willow, and Dawn close to the middle, but couldn't tell what was at the middle itself. He moved closer, and a sudden parting in the crowd revealed Faith, who was looking happier than he'd ever seen her (though still strangely threatening) and holding a fuzzy blue bundle in her arms.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced up and saw a couple of the demons looking down on the scene from halfway up the main staircase. One of them shook his head, and then they went up to the second floor and out of sight. Frowning, Xander walked over to join the men gathered around the proud new dad.

"Nicholas," Giles was saying. "So, you named him after your mother, then?"

"That was always the plan, boy or girl," said Wood. Xander watched him glance over at Faith, still surrounded by cooing admirers, and saw her shoot him an exasperated look. "I don't know what those girls are waiting for. If they think she's gonna let them hold him, they're setting themselves up for some disappointment."

Angel chuckled. "Doesn't surprise me. Have _you_ even gotten to hold him yet?"

"At the hospital," said Wood ruefully. "And five or six times since then, as long as I was sitting down. Or she was asleep. And I heard the news about you and Buffy. How's that going?"

Angel grinned broadly.

"Pretty much like that," said Oz.

"How far along is she?" asked Wood.

"Three months," said Angel.

Wood laughed. "So, you guys were slow on the uptake too, huh? How did you find out?"

"She collapsed while shouting at a rather presumptuous old friend of his," said Giles. Angel scowled.

"Hey, that's better than landing in the hospital from a vamp attack," said Wood.

"Have you had any more trouble with vampires infesting the Underground lately?" asked Giles.

"Nothing worse than usual. I've been keeping an eye out for signs that Demetri and Sophia are back in town, but you might have scared them off for good."

"Nobody online has heard anything about them either," said Oz.

"Well, hopefully that means their days of leading the Slayer blood blackmarket are over," said Giles.

"Hey, sorry to bust this up," said Faith, who had somehow managed to escape the adoring masses with Nicholas, who had begun to fuss and move about as restlessly as his carefully wrapped blankets would allow, and who she was now therefore attempting to pacify by bouncing lightly and rubbing his small back. "But Nicky needs a nap, and it so isn't gonna happen here." She looked at Angel and grinned. "B told me the news. Congrats!" She punched him affectionately on the shoulder.

"Thanks," he said. "You too."

Faith took Wood's hand and together they left. Angel rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. Buffy, Willow, and Dawn came over to join the group, while the rest of the girls scattered, having been deprived of the object of their attention. Buffy attached herself to Angel's side as Willow did the same with Oz, and after they'd all reached a consensus about how ridiculously cute Nicky was, the conversation turned to the coming Christmas party, with Willow rolling her eyes in a good-natured sort of way.

Xander left the lobby. Nobody called him back. Nobody had even come to get him in the first place. Had they forgotten about him, or did they think he would rather sleep than meet Faith and Wood's new baby? Neither option did much to improve his mood. He went into the empty kitchen and made a bacon tomato sandwich, but that only kept him distracted for about seven minutes.

Once he'd eaten the last bite, there was nothing to stop his thoughts from dwelling on familiar and very disheartening subjects. They didn't need him. None of them. They all had someone else, or at least a purpose. All he had was his job. Maybe that was all he was meant for. Maybe he'd been kidding himself for years. He was just the slightly-below-average Joe, constantly trying to fit in with the superheroes. But what good had that done? He just got in the way and told lame jokes. He'd never been able to stop the people he cared about from getting hurt. Maybe it was time for him to get his own place and let the rest of them get on with their lives without him to drag them down anymore.

He walked slowly out of the hotel and sat down in a shady corner of the garden.

"They all would've been better off without me."

"Why do you think that?"

Xander looked around and saw that he wasn't alone. Livvy had come outside too and plopped down next to him—on his blind side, which explained why he hadn't noticed at first. She was staring at him with a puzzled expression. He sighed and looked ahead at the gate. "Because all I do is get in the way."

"No," she said. "You're too nice for that."

"Yeah, well being 'nice' just keeps everyone from getting mad whenever I screw something up."

"Oh."

"My whole life has been one failure after another. Home—with _my_ family—was a disaster. I wouldn't even have passed school if it hadn't been for Willow. It's pure luck that I wasn't stuck with endless crappy jobs after high school, and mostly thanks to Buffy I've stayed alive this long at all. I've seen too many friends die or get hurt, and I can't stop thinking that every time, if I'd been just a little smarter or faster, I might have stopped it. Instead, I just make everything worse."

Livvy didn't say anything, but she looked rather upset, and he felt even worse for having unloaded all of this on a little kid who already had more than enough trauma of her own to last a lifetime. He got up and walked away.

"I wish I'd never been born," he muttered dully.

A shadow crossed the ground where he stood, and he looked up. The few clouds from before seemed to have multiplied, and were becoming ominously dark. He stared at them and lost track of time, until there was a brilliant flash of lightning, accompanied by an earsplitting thunderclap. He looked back towards where he and Livvy had been sitting, hoping it hadn't scared her too badly, but she wasn't there. Nor, for that matter, was the hotel. Xander spun around wildly. He was in a graveyard, and the darkness was more than what a storm could create. It was the dead of night.

Before he could react to his sudden change of setting, he was distracted by the unmistakable sounds of a fight going on nearby. He hurried in the direction of the noise, wishing he had some kind of weapon at his disposal. He ran around a large mausoleum and froze in his tracks. Renée! She was here! And she was fighting a vampire.

"Renée!" he shouted without thinking. She turned to look at him, distracted, and the vampire's heavy boot collided with her stomach. She fell to her knees, winded. The vampire, a female with long red hair, bent down and seized Renée by the throat. Horrified, Xander ran forward and rammed his shoulder into her side, knocking her out of the way. He quickly pulled Renée to her feet.

"What're you doing?" she gasped. "Get out of here!"

"And what, leave you behind?" he retorted, stung by her reaction. "I don't think so." He looked at her more closely. "Hey, what happened to your scar?"

She had no opportunity to reply beyond a confused expression, for the vampire chose that moment to interrupt by striking a heavy blow to the side of Xander's head, sending him crashing to the ground and knocking his eye-patch askew. He went to put it back in place, but realized with an enormous jolt that he didn't need it. He blinked and waved a hand in front of his face. _He had both eyes_. Not wasting any more time on this miraculous revelation, he tore the eye-patch away and leapt back up to rejoin the fight. It seemed that the vampire had only wanted him out of the way so she could keep beating up Renée, who was taking some serious hits. He spotted a cross lying discarded in the grass and seized it, intending to pass it to her, but with one particularly well-aimed strike of the vampire's fist to her temple, she collapsed, unconscious.

Insides writhing with anger, Xander hurled himself forward and brandished the cross in the vampire's face. She shrieked and jumped away, but there wasn't enough room, so she ended up with her back against the side of the mausoleum, where, for the first time, her features were illuminated by the light of a distant streetlamp.

It was Willow.

†

Xander felt like he was falling through the ground. Instinct was the only reason he hadn't dropped the cross in shock.

"Wil…what happened to you? Five minutes ago you were…this can't be real."

"Aw, a welcome back committee, isn't that sweet? Except, could it wait just a sec?" she said. "I'm trying to kill the Slayer, here, and you're kinda in my way."

"You stay the hell away from her," he snarled, his grip on the cross now so tight that he could barely feel his fingers.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Oh, fun, a white knight. You're wasting your time. Even if it's not me, sooner or later she'll have a set of fangs in her throat and you won't be able to stop it." And before he could say another word, she darted past him around the mausoleum and was gone.

Xander didn't know how long he stood there, but his breathing and heart rate had returned to normal by the time he fought through his shock enough to turn and see Renée still lying on the ground. Fleetingly, he wondered if this was all one of those _Matrix_-like virtual reality training things Willow set up for the Watchers-in-training, but then he dismissed the idea. Willow may not have had much time for him recently, but she wouldn't put him through something like this. He bent down, carefully slid one arm beneath Renée's shoulders and the other under her knees, and stood up again with her held securely against his chest. After making sure Willow was gone and no other vampires were around, he left the cemetery.

At first he didn't know where he was, except that he definitely wasn't in L.A. However, with every street he walked down, the place became more and more familiar. He tried to deny it, but when he turned onto Main Street and saw Sun Cinema and the Espresso Pump, he abandoned the attempt. He was in Sunnydale. Sunnydale, which he very clearly remembered having become an impressive crater the last time he saw it. What the hell was going on? Did he go back in time? But why was Renée here? And why did he have both eyes? And Willow…oh, God, Willow. He had no idea what to do, so he eventually acted out of habit: when in doubt, go to Giles. If he was even here. Well, if he wasn't, Xander thought, he'd just have to catch a cab back to L.A. and hope the driver wouldn't have too many questions about the unconscious and bruise-covered young woman he brought with him.

However, he was spared the trouble of inventing a story with which to placate taxi drivers, for when he arrived at Giles's apartment complex, he saw the crappy little Citroën the Watcher had once owned sitting in the parking lot. With relief, he hurried on into the courtyard and then, after deftly readjusting Renée against him, opened the door and burst across the threshold.

"Giles!" he called loudly and urgently, kicking the door shut behind him. He looked around and was a little surprised to find, not only Giles, but Angel and Oz as well, all standing in the living room, gaping at him. He ignored them long enough to gently deposit Renée on the sofa.

"What on earth is going on here?" Giles demanded.

Xander stood and turned to face him and the other two urgently. "I'm not sure, but I ran into Renée at the cemetery. She was fighting _Willow_, Giles. Willow—" He broke off, overcome by his anguish. He kept his eyes on Giles. He felt cowardly; he couldn't bear to look at Oz. "She's a vampire."

Giles looked alarmed. "Willow's _here_?" he asked. "In Sunnydale? Was Spike with her?"

"Spike?" said Xander. "What does Spike have to do with this?" But they weren't listening to them. Giles had turned to Angel with a look of grim trepidation.

"I don't sense him nearby," said Angel. He made a noise that sounded uncannily like a growl, but Xander was sure he'd heard wrong. "But it wouldn't be the first time."

"Where's Buffy?" asked Xander. "We need her."

"Buffy? Buffy Summers?" asked Giles, turning back to face him and frowning.

"Uh, yeah, what other Buffy do we know? Although, I'm not so sure about 'Summers' anymore. She was pretty clear with that fancy suit-wearing idiot last week that it's 'Gallagher' now." He looked at Angel, ready to reply to the usual scowl with a sarcastic smirk, but instead of being able to participate in the habitual exchange that might have helped to restore some sanity to the situation, he found Angel looking perplexed in a very brooding, depressed sort of way. He also looked much paler than Xander had seen him in a very long time, and more unkempt—something he had in common with the other two.

Xander didn't have much time to puzzle this out, because Giles drew his attention by speaking again. "I think you're confused, young man," he said. "Buffy Summers was killed by a vampire known as the Master more than seven years ago now."

"Well, yeah, but she didn't _stay_ dead," said Xander dismissively. They all stared at him.

"Okay, I know I wasn't quite in the game then, but that's not the version I heard," said Oz slowly, looking at Angel, whose jaw had tightened.

"I'm sorry," said Giles, taking off his glasses and beginning to pace the room. "Thank you for bringing Miss Blackwood to safety, I'll be sure to inform her Watcher of her whereabouts, but—"

"Wait, wait, her Watcher? I know I haven't talked to her for a while, but _I _was going to be her Watcher."

"Well, who exactly are you? Somehow, I have a hard time believing that you have so much as set foot in the Watchers' Academy, let alone graduated from it."

"Who am I?" said Xander with a disbelieving grin. "Giles, come on. 'Tis really not the season for lame pretend group amnesia pranks," he quipped irritably.

"I assure you that I am in no humor to pull pranks, lame or otherwise," said Giles coldly. "You presume a familiarity that does not exist, and one has to wonder why. While I would think that a demonic scout would be more accurately informed, you do seem to know more than the average lay man should."

"He's human, Rupert," said Angel quietly.

"Doesn't mean he's trustworthy," said Oz.

Xander turned his gaze briefly on each of them in turn and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck at the way they were looking at him even as they spoke to each other. He suddenly appreciated how a rabbit must feel while being circled by hungry, snarling wolves, but was at a loss to understand why he should feel this way under the stares of the former vampire with whom he (usually) coexisted peacefully and the guitarist for whom he had been best man.

"Could be one of Warren's flunkies," said Angel. "The last one seemed pretty harmless too."

"Hey, whoa, I'm nobody's flunkie," said Xander indignantly, shaking off the unsettled feeling. "And could we all please be a little more concerned about the fact that _Willow is a vampire_?" He glared challengingly at Oz, and was appalled at how little emotion showed on his face, even for Oz. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. "Is your face just paralyzed or something? She's your _wife_. I should _not_ be having a monopoly on the grief and anger here."

Oz's brow furrowed. "We dated for a few months back in high school," he admitted, and his voice actually was somewhat thicker than usual. "But…she went out one night—it was the full moon or I would've gone with her—and Spike got her. No one knew he was back in town until it was too late."

Xander's mind could barely function under the weight of his horror and confusion. He couldn't hear any more of this. He needed to get away. "Take care of Renée," he said tonelessly. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna go for a walk."

All three of them watched him turn and let himself out of the apartment, then looked at each other, nonplussed.

†

_This can't be real_, he thought. _There's got to be some way this isn't real. Oh, wait!_ He brightened suddenly._ That Willow was probably just the same vampire Willow from that one alternate reality, and somehow she got back to this one. _He refused to think beyond that, or to acknowledge that this theory accounted for neither the existence of Sunnydale, his regrown left eye, nor the behavior of and claims made by Giles, Angel, and Oz.

Xander wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, but he was quite sure he hadn't been heading towards a cemetery, and yet he rather suddenly found himself within the grounds of one of the largest ones in town. He made to turn around, but then did a double-take and rushed forward until he was standing directly in front of one of the tombstones.

HERE LIES

Buffy Anne Summers

Beloved Daughter

January 19, 1981 – June 2, 1997

Xander staggered back, tripped on an uneven clump of grass, and fell over. A few seconds later, a face loomed over him out of the darkness. A half-amused, half-concerned, and very familiar face. He knew he had to be dreaming now. "Jesse?" he asked blankly.

"Hey, man. Way to be a total klutz. Very dignified."

Xander scowled in spite of his bewilderment. "Nice to see you too."

"What?" Jesse snorted. "I died at sixteen. Did you expect overwhelming amounts of maturity?" He stuck out a hand, which Xander shot a skeptical look. "Don't worry. Not a vampire anymore, thanks to you."

Still doubtful, Xander took the proffered hand (which he immediately noticed was warm) and allowed Jesse to pull him back to his feet.

"And while I'm on the subject, let me just take this opportunity to actually _say_ thank you, because, well, the idea of my body going around killing the people I cared about just makes me sick, and I'm already dead, so that's kinda hard to do."

"Uh, you're welcome?"

"Not as welcome as I thought I'd be! I mean, not even a hug? We were only _best_ _friends_ my whole life. You wound me." He clutched his chest and made a ludicrously tragic expression.

Xander rolled his eyes. "So, I guess this is the world without Buffy," he said, turning to look at the tombstone again. "Anya told me about it a little, but I had no idea—"

"Nah," said Jesse, waving a hand through the end of Xander's sentence. "Buffy's right there." He jerked his head at the grave. "This is the world without _you_."

"What?" asked Xander in disbelief.

"Hey, you're the one who said they'd all be better off if you'd never been part of the picture. Congratulations, now you weren't."

Xander stared at him for a long moment. Then he let out a short, humorless chuckle. "So, the eye," he said. "It didn't grow back. I'm not secretly Wolverine."

"While that _would _be cool…no. You never existed, so you never lost it."

"If I never existed, then how am I even here at all? Shouldn't the rest of me have gotten the proverbial Caleb thumb of oblivion?"

"Why, would you prefer that?" asked Jesse, one eyebrow raised.

"Not really."

"Okay, then stop trying to riddle my proverbial Clarence gig with inconsistencies."

A pause. "Deal." There was a somewhat prolonged silence, until Buffy's grave drew Xander's eyes again like a magnet. "What happened?" he asked.

"I can show you," said Jesse brightly. He screwed up his face in concentration and tapped his chin. "Let's see, when should we start? I could take you to see Wils not getting her Barbie stolen and never watching _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ and always hanging on to me for dear life whenever other kids our age were around because I was always even worse at making her come out of her shell than you were, or—"

Xander winced and shook his head, still unable to look away from the grave.

Jesse broke off with an expression of understanding that for the first time contained no trace of humor or sarcasm. "—We could go then instead," he finished. He walked up to the tombstone and ran his fingers lightly over the date of death. There was a flash, and then they were in a poorly lit basement apartment. It would have taken Xander a while to recognize the place if it hadn't been for the sight of Angel restlessly pacing within it, apparently unaware of the fact that he had company. Xander wanted to ask why they were here of all places, but decided that Jesse probably knew what he was doing and to just go with it.

The phone rang, and Angel was across the apartment to answer it in under a second. "Hello? Giles! What? She can't! No, I don't care, I'm going. Now." He slammed the phone down and practically flew out of the apartment. The next thing Xander knew, he and Jesse were behind Angel as he jogged through the sewers.

Xander's insides went icy. He knew what was going to happen next. Angel leapt out of the tunnel and into the cavern that contained the ruins of an old church and ran to the shallow pool where Buffy lay, facedown. He pulled her out and checked desperately for signs of life, but found none. Xander could remember what was supposed to happen next as clearly as if it had been yesterday, but he didn't exist, so he couldn't bring her back. Angel held her lifeless form against him and wept. It couldn't have been a more different picture from the one Xander had left behind when he walked out of the Hyperion's lobby: both of them very much alive, radiantly happy, and full of anticipation. But that was all gone now.

Angel carefully laid Buffy down on the uneven surface, brushed a few strands of wet hair away from her face, and bent to kiss her forehead. By the time he stood up, he was in full vamp face, and he left the cavern at inhuman speeds. Next, they were at the school, where an enraged Angel found the Master overlooking the chaos going on in the library with satisfaction.

"Angelus, my boy," said the Master. "Come to join me at last in my hour of triumph?"

Whatever response the Master had expected, it clearly was not the flurry of bone-crushing blows Angel unleashed on him. He tried to fight back, but even with the advantages of age and Slayer blood, he was no match for Angel's grief.

After he'd had his fill of mindlessly pummeling and they were both splattered with blood, Angel seized the Master around the head and twisted sharply. Xander flinched at the loud crack that rent the air. "You should have killed me centuries ago when you had the chance," Angel growled. Now paralyzed, the Master could do little more than watch him with wide eyes. "Say hello to Darla for me." With that, Angel shoved him through the large skylight and watched as he fell directly onto a wickedly sharp jagged end of wood and disintegrated into a skeleton.

Angel jumped down into the library as the giant wormy demon shrieked and retreated, then vented some more of his fury on the vampires who had gotten past the barricade. Within minutes, the ones that hadn't managed to flee were all dust. Giles, Willow, Cordelia, and Miss Calendar were all staring at Angel.

"Where's Buffy?" asked Willow timidly.

Angel's face, now human again, crumpled, and he turned away. Willow gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, tears pouring from her eyes. Miss Calendar put her arms around her. Giles lowered himself unsteadily into a chair. Cordelia looked like the struggle to comprehend this on top of everything else that had happened was too much for her.

"I don't want to see any more of this," said Xander quietly. Jesse nodded. Their surroundings melted, and for the next few minutes, they jumped from scene to scene. Cordelia never came back from the Delta Zeta Cappa frat party. Kendra showed up at Giles's apartment while Angel was there to have tea and commiserate, and nearly staked him before Giles could convince her he was on their side. She killed Drusilla before Spike could use Angel to restore her to full strength, but then Spike killed her in revenge.

They skipped ahead again. Adults high on teenage hormones were running amuck everywhere, and Miss Calendar's car was instantly reduced to a mess of twisted metal and broken glass by the faster of two vehicles that ran her stoplight as they tore recklessly up the streets. When the earsplitting bang of the collision dissolved, Xander looked around, trying to find out what this next one was about, and then he saw Willow walking alone along a deserted street beneath a full moon, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Oh, no," said Xander, Oz's words from before coming back to him with a flood of dread.

"Fancy seeing you out here, pet," came a familiar voice from the darkness. "And all alone."

Willow jumped and turned around to see Spike emerge from the shadows. "S-Spike!" she stammered. "I thought you left town."

"Don't plan on staying long. Just thought I'd drop in. You know, for old times' sake."

She backed away down the sidewalk, eyes huge with fear.

"Oh, please," said Spike, rolling his eyes. "I've killed three Slayers; do you really think you can get away from me?"

"I get it, okay?" said Xander, fists clenched. "I can't see this and not be able to do anything."

Jesse nodded again. The scene faded and was replaced by one of the Sunnydale High cafeteria, where red Jell-O was being served.

It was then that Xander realized that someone else was missing. "Where's Dawn?" he asked.

"She never existed either," said Jesse. "The monks only made the Key into Dawn because of Buffy. She'd already lasted five years as the Slayer, so they trusted her."

"So, what, she's Faith's sister instead, or something?"

Jesse didn't answer. Before the cafeteria dissolved, Xander saw about half of the students with red Jell-O on their plates begin to either pass out or throw up. But then they were at graduation. There were far fewer students than Xander remembered, but right on schedule, the Mayor transformed and began wreaking havoc. He'd eaten about five people (one of them Wesley) before Faith showed up, armed with daggers. She barely had time to move before the Mayor lunged at her and swallowed her whole. He then turned and began to chase down more students, when he suddenly stopped and let out an unearthly shriek of agony and twisted violently. It seemed that Faith wasn't going to go down without taking him with her. With one final death rattle, the Mayor collapsed, dead, crushing the podium from which he'd given his speech beneath him.

"Since Buffy, no Slayer has lasted much longer than a year," said Jesse. In a flash, they were watching a Kennedy who couldn't be older than fifteen or sixteen fighting Adam. "They've managed to keep the world from ending, but always at a heavy price. Glory never came to Sunnydale, because the Key was never there. She never found it." They watched Rona get hit by Toth's ferula-gemina rod and then her weaker half killed, resulting in the death of her stronger half as well. They watched Vi die at Nyx's hands.

"Wait, where's the First?" asked Xander. Keeping track of time was difficult, but he was sure it should have turned up by then.

"It never made a move," said Jesse. "The only reason it could was because of the way Willow brought Buffy back to life."

"So Slayers are still only one at a time."

"And you can imagine what that means for Cleveland and L.A.—not to mention that Angel never left Sunnydale."

It took Xander nearly a whole minute to realize that he was once again in the cemetery, standing feet away from Buffy's grave. He opened his mouth to say something to Jesse, but then realized that he had nothing to say. He turned to share a glance instead, but Jesse was no longer beside him. He looked around. Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Memories of everything he'd just been shown flashed before his eyes, and he felt bile rising in his throat. He found himself wishing he could go to the Lair and have a few drinks, but then he remembered Willy's original place of business, and decided that if Sunnydale was still here, then Willy probably was too. It was worth a shot. Or eight.

†

To Xander's relief, he had been right. Willy's was up and running, and just as shabby as ever. Willy eyed him warily as he entered, but he wasn't in the mood to make an intimidating first impression on this reality's Willy, so he simply strode up to the bar and sat heavily on a stool. "Beer me," he said in a defeated sort of tone.

Willy's expression went from apprehensive to curious as he slid Xander a beer.

"Slow night, huh?" asked Xander, glancing around.

"Uh, you might say that, yeah," said Willy. He seemed suddenly uneasy again.

Xander frowned at him. "What happened?" he asked suspiciously.

Perhaps something about what Jesse had shown Xander had made him seem like a man who was to be taken seriously, or maybe this reality had simply been so hard on Willy that it had loosened his tongue, but the barman required none of the usual coercive measures to start talking, only reassurance. "You human, kid?"

"Yeah." Xander decided against qualifying that with the fact that he was kind of a non-person, feeling that such a statement would probably not engender confidence in the greasy little weasel.

"Then my advice to you would be to get clear of this town," said Willy.

"Why? What's up?"

Willy glanced around and swallowed. "If you'd been here fifteen minutes ago, you would've seen it." He hesitated. "Now, I cannot stress enough to you how much you _did not hear this from me_."

Xander nodded.

Willy swallowed again. "Well, this vamp chick came in and hired out all of my patrons. Granted, there were only five or six of 'em at the time, you know—slow night, like you said, but I got the feeling she meant business."

"Willow," said Xander under his breath. Then, more loudly, "What kind of business are we talking?"

"The Slayer," said Willy, glancing around the bar again in a very twitchy fashion. "All the vamps know this is where to come if they want a shot at her."

"Know where they're setting up camp?"

"The redhead was talking about an old factory."

Xander's eyes widened. "Got it," he said, standing up. "Thanks." He threw down some money for his untouched beer and turned to go.

"Hey, kid," Willy called. Xander paused and looked back. "Good luck. And, uh, merry Christmas."

Xander nodded and smiled briefly, then departed. His mind was racing as he headed back to Giles's apartment. Willow had been happy to fight Renée on her own before, so why would she be recruiting now? She had to know about Giles, Oz, and Angel, and now she knew about him too. She was getting ready for a fight. _And she'll get one_, he thought fiercely.

†

When Xander arrived at Giles's apartment, he was greeted with even less warmth than before. The only reason Giles even let him in was that he had brought the Slayer to safety, but it was very difficult to get these jaded versions of the people he knew to actually trust him. At every turn they questioned his knowledge and suspected his motives. It wasn't long before he became so frustrated that he decided an intermission was in order and asked if he could see Renée.

"Why?" asked Angel with narrowed eyes.

Xander glared. "If I wanted to hurt her, why would I have brought her here?" he asked derisively.

"We put her in the guest room," said Oz. "She's still asleep."

Xander remembered to wait until Giles had pointed in the direction of the room in question before charging off towards it. He found Renée awake, sitting on the bed with her back to the wall. She looked up at him when he entered, and as she did so, he realized that this was the first time he was seeing her with both eyes. He stared long and hard, reveling in the simple pleasure of it.

"_What_?" she asked loudly.

He jumped. "Oh, uh, nothing," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm alright," she said. "I suppose I should thank you for getting me out of that graveyard, but you ought to stay clear of the fighting from now on."

"I get the impression you let Giles, Oz, and Angel fight. What's the difference?"

"They're a Watcher, a werewolf, and a vampire. You're a civilian with a bruise covering half your face from the last time you decided to help."

"Hey, I might be a bruised civilian, but I'm someone who cares. I volunteered for this."

"Lucky you," she said bitterly.

"What, being the one picked for the 'sacred calling' out of every other girl in the world doesn't count as lucky?"

She turned slowly to look at him, and it pained him to see how much this life had dimmed the brightness he remembered in her eyes. "They call this town the Slayer graveyard. The Watchers' Council took me away from my family and sent me here. This isnae a sacred calling so much as a death sentence." She looked down at the stake she had been idly rotating in her hands. "But it's me or the world, right? Not much of a choice there."

Well, now Xander had another reason to despise the original Watchers' Council. As if he needed more. "Oh, come on, it's not so bad," he said bracingly. "All you need is a hobby. Like…drawing, or something."

"I used to draw all the time," she said quietly. She flexed the fingers of her left hand and winced.

"What happened?" asked Xander, sitting down next to her.

Renée seemed taken aback by the intensity of his concern. She averted her eyes when she answered. "During my Cruciamentum, the vampire crushed my hand before I managed to set him on fire. The bones healed fine, but it hasnae really been right since."

Xander would have given a great deal to be able to wrap his arms around her at that moment, but he forced himself to be content with a heartfelt, "I'm sorry."

Renée shrugged. "What use is drawing to the Slayer, anyway?"

Xander frowned. "Is that what your Watcher's been telling you?"

She didn't answer. "Aren't they waiting for you out there?" she asked.

"I guess they are," he said reluctantly. He got to his feet and walked to the door, but couldn't stop himself from staring at her again. She didn't look up, and when he couldn't prolong the moment any further, he left the room.

†

"You'll forgive our skepticism," said Giles, who was once again flanked by Angel and Oz, "but we've been misled in the past by those we thought we could trust, and your inexplicable knowledge seems highly suspect."

"Look, it's complicated, okay," said Xander. "But I've known about all this stuff since I was in high school. I knew Willow when we were kids, and I can't stand to see her like this. I can't just sit around while the thing using her body could be out there right now killing people."

There was a long pause as they all stared at him. Again, he kept his eyes on Giles, but the Englishman wasn't the one who spoke first.

"I'm in," said Angel.

Xander looked at him, surprised to have gained an ally from the one he had thought would be the least likely candidate. He nodded silently to show his gratitude. Oz and Giles followed suit, and Xander quickly told them what he knew about Willow's whereabouts and minion count. Immediately afterward, Oz went to Giles's trunk and started tossing weapons from it to each of them.

Angel stiffened suddenly, looking in the direction of the guest room.

"What is it?" asked Xander.

Oz walked over and checked the room. When he pulled back, his face showed alarm. "She left," he said.

"Oh, no," said Xander, his face draining of color. "She didn't want me to fight. She must've gone after Willow on her own." He redoubled his grip on the crossbow Oz had given him. "We've got to follow her." They didn't argue, and fifteen seconds later, all four of them had left the apartment.

†

Renée had spent enough time in Sunnydale that she knew exactly where to find the factory that the man—Xander, she thought she'd heard him say—had told the others about. As she made her way up the streets alone, she couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at her. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. She wasn't quite sure what it meant or if she was comfortable with it, but she knew that she couldn't let him get hurt trying to fight for her again.

She had never been inside this factory before, and she quickly decided she'd been happier that way. It had the feel of a haunted house, except that haunted houses didn't usually come fitted with large, dangerous machinery.

"That was quick," said a voice unexpectedly from somewhere above. Renée looked up and saw the redhead—Willow—striding along the catwalk that overlooked the factory floor.

"I've a job to finish," she said coldly.

"Where's your white knight, Slayer?" asked Willow.

"He'll be here soon enough, I expect."

"Oh, good. I've got some friends for him to play with."

"He willnae be alone," said Renée, determined not to betray any anxiety.

"Pfft. You mean he'll have my occasionally furry ex, the old librarian, and Gramps? It's about time someone put those three out of their misery." By this point, she had reached the spiral staircase, which she descended without changing her pace. "I picked this place for the nostalgic glow," she said, tracing a finger lazily along the banister. "I was sired here. I'd offer you the same, but I've heard enough about the last Slayer who got turned to learn from the mistake her sire made." She reached the bottom and walked towards Renée, who stood her ground. "It'll be just like old times. They got here too late to save me, and now they're going to be too late to save you."

Her fist flew so fast that Renée had no hope of blocking it and collided squarely with her face. She fell back, tasting blood, but immediately upon landing kicked out hard at Willow's shin, bringing her crashing down as well. Willow tried to get back up, but Renée seized the leg of an overturned chair and hurled the entire thing at her, knocking her down again, then jumped up herself.

†

It was a tight fit in the Citroën with all four of them, and the struggling old car actually broke down a block away from the factory. It probably wouldn't have gotten much farther anyway, however, for no sooner had they gotten out than they were set upon by at least eight vampires. Xander hadn't so much as taken aim with his crossbow by the time Angel and Oz had gone barreling into the attackers. Their fighting style was like nothing Xander had ever seen from either of them.

Angel, fangs and yellow irises glinting in the poor light, seemed to be seeking to cause as much pain as possible without completely abandoning efficiency. Oz fought with a brutality equal to everything Xander had ever witnessed from his wolf form, but seemed somehow less human than he had on those occasions, despite not having transformed. The look on his face as he delivered blows of power disproportionate to his size was such that he bore no resemblance to the calm, stoic guitarist he usually was—but perhaps that wasn't an accurate description of him here. Giles certainly took his and Angel's strategies in stride.

Xander fired his crossbow and tried not to feel sickened by the crunching of bone, feral roars and growls, and bloodcurdling cries of agony going on around him. As long as he could get to Renée, none of that mattered. His crossbow bolt had met its mark in the heart of one of the vampires. The ground beneath the fight was sprayed with dust and blood; Angel and Oz had taken down two vamps apiece, and just then, Giles beheaded another with a machete. But just when it seemed that the way was almost clear, more vampires arrived to join the fight.

†

Willow tossed the chair off her and sprang to her feet, her cold, mocking expression replaced with a snarl. She aimed a kick at Renée's head, but Renée blocked it and retaliated by going straight for the kill. Willow twisted to avoid the plunging stake and managed to knock it out of Renée's hand. It went skittering across the floor and out of sight beneath a large stack of crates. Renée ducked a punch and drove her elbow, hard, into Willow's side and heard the responding cracks of multiple ribs breaking. Without pausing, she wrapped an arm around Willow's middle and threw her with all her considerable strength. She collided agonizingly with a corner of the large table and crumpled to the floor. Renée smashed a hand through the frame back of the nearest chair and advanced on her again, now armed with one wickedly sharp makeshift stake.

Willow pulled herself to her feet, using the table for support, and wiped blood away from her mouth. Renée threw a punch that she parried. She knocked her off-balance with a kick to the knee, seized a handful of her hair, and banged her head into the table. Renée reached around, caught hold of Willow's arm, and twisted sharply, forcing her to let go of her hair and nimbly reversing their positions, so that Willow was the one held against the table. She raised the stake. It was no more than an inch away from Willow's chest when she grabbed Renée tightly by the hand holding it.

Renée let out an involuntary cry. It was her left hand. Willow's lips twitched in triumph and she viciously tightened her grip even further and wrenched the stake out of Renée's hand. Fighting through the pain, Renée grappled with Willow for control of the stake, and together they toppled to the floor.

†

Stars popped in Xander's vision as he was thrown against the side of the Citroën by one of the reinforcement vamps. He ducked a punch that shattered the driver's window, then hastily opened the door, seized the vampire's forearm, pulled, and slammed the door shut as hard as he could, breaking both bones in the vampire's arm and pinning him against the front of the car. He finished him off with the stake Angel had left on the pavement when he had opted in favor of ripping off heads with his bare hands.

Xander looked around. The other three were still busy fighting, but they were down to the last four vampires, and the way to the factory was clear. Confident that Angel, Giles, and Oz could handle themselves, he found his crossbow again and took off towards the factory at a run.

"Renée!" he yelled as he burst through the doors. "Renée, where are you?" He ran past crates and equipment and machinery, calling her name repeatedly. Nobody answered. He soon walked past the long table, and a foot came into view. His breath caught. He took a few more steps, and his heart seemed to fail. Renée was lying spread-eagled on the ground, eyes closed, the end of a large piece of jagged wood jutting gruesomely out of her chest, and blood soaking her shirt and pooling on the floor beneath her.

The crossbow fell from Xander's numb fingers, and his knees hit cold, grimy cement. Then, all of a sudden, a hand came out of nowhere and closed around his throat. He was lifted into the air and turned until Willow's face came into his direct line of vision.

"Bored now," she sighed. "Once you kill the Slayer, there's not much left to do."

In that instant, the part of Xander's mind that understood that this was not _his_ Willow found and joined forces with the part that was screaming for the blood of Renée's killer, never mind that she was not _his_ Renée either. Though his current position of being held off the ground in a strangling grip severely limited his options, he still had longer arms, and one of his hands found its way to Willow's neck while he tried to knee her in the stomach.

The knee missed its target and instead hit her in the ribs—the ones Renée had broken minutes before. Willow dropped him with a shriek of pain and stumbled backward. Almost without conscious thought, he grabbed the fallen crossbow, swung it around, and fired.

Willow looked down at the bolt's fletching, then back up. For the briefest moment, her eyes met Xander's, and then she exploded into ash.

Frozen in the same position he'd been in when he pulled the trigger, Xander stared at the place where she had stood. That void seemed to contain the memories of all the time he had ever spent with her. The sleepovers when they were little. The nights out at the Bronze. Saving her from herself after she lost Tara. Helping her destroy the First. A thousand other things. He tore his gaze away, but it only fell on Renée instead, and this time it was the memories of her that flooded his mind. But now none of it had ever happened because of him, and they were both gone. Them and so much more.

Eyes wide and breath coming in harsh bursts, he staggered away. Giles, Angel, and Oz, each bearing heavy signs of the previous fight, met him at the factory entrance. He passed them without speaking. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running as hard as he could. He reached the cemetery where Buffy was buried within minutes.

He'd thought he was a useless failure, but that only became true when, through his own short-sightedness, he retroactively failed to be there for the people who needed him for twenty-four years. And now it was too late to make things right.

"Jesse!" he bellowed into the darkness. "Undo the wish, do you hear me? Undo it! If you have to take my life to give theirs back, then take it, but put back what I did before! They were alive and happy! They didn't ask for this! It's _my_ fault; _I'm_ the one who should pay, not them! They didn't deserve this! Take it back!"

He fell to his knees and clutched at the grass—but there was no grass. He opened his eyes—no, eye, singular. He was staring at pavement. He jumped up and looked around. He was back in the Hyperion's front garden, where it was now dusk.

It took him at least a minute to recover from his shock, but then he was instantly on the move. He sprinted back across the garden and nearly bowled over two of the younger Slayers who were taking a stroll outside. Grinning from ear to ear, he hugged both of them and ran inside, leaving them standing there in utter bewilderment.

The Christmas Eve party was in full swing in the lobby. Several of the Watchers-in-training were dancing with Slayers to Christmas classics, as were Gunn and Anne, but the people Xander was looking for were grouped over by the sofas. He stayed where he was, however, and watched, savoring the sight of all of them, happy and whole and together.

He saw Buffy kiss Angel and hand him a package, which he unwrapped to find a small gold cross on a long chain. He smiled and immediately put it on and tucked it under his shirt. Dawn, sporting a rather wicked grin, barely gave her brother-in-law time to kiss Buffy back in thanks before she forced her own package into his hands. Looking mildly alarmed, Angel unwrapped it, stared at it for two seconds, then scowled heavily while Buffy, Dawn, Connor, Giles, and, to a lesser degree, Oz, all burst out laughing. Curious, Xander stepped closer and saw that the present was the DVD of _The Muppet Christmas Carol_. Forgetting his role as silent observer, Xander joined the laughter, though in a much less snarky way than he usually did when the joke was on Angel.

"Good one, Dawn," he said appreciatively.

"There you are!" cried Buffy. "Willow's been looking everywhere for you, you know."

"She has?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, but come here first," said Dawn, jumping up and pulling him over to sit down with them. "It's your turn for presents."

"Yep," Buffy agreed, and promptly placed a surprisingly large present on his lap. Xander smiled incredulously and unwrapped it. It was the biggest Super Soaker he had ever seen. While admittedly awesome, this didn't make very much sense, and he looked up at her in confusion.

"Wait, that's not all of it," said Buffy, and Dawn handed him a second present. It wasn't as large, but it was at least twice as heavy. He ripped off the paper to reveal several large glass bottles labeled Holy Water. He looked from one present to the other and grinned.

"You remembered!" he said in delight. A Holy Water-filled Super Soaker was an idea he had tossed out months ago, but which he never actually did anything about.

"Well, yeah," scoffed Dawn. "It was only one of the coolest ideas for vamp-repelling artillery _ever_!"

"Though it is rather unorthodox, I find I quite agree," said Giles. "I think it could come in very useful."

"Hear, hear," said Oz.

"_You!_" came an irate voice from behind Xander. He turned around and found Willow glaring at him in extreme vexation. Before she could say anything else, he had jumped over the couch and pulled her into a very tight hug. When he released her several seconds later, she looked like she was struggling to hold on to her irritation. "No fair," she said, pouting. "Hug attacks are not allowed for people who don't show up for yearly traditions with best friends."

"What?" he said. "I—_oh_." He had just noticed what she was holding: the copy of _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ Dawn had given her last year. He looked back at her, completely repentant. "I'm all yours."

She beamed at him and together they went off to find a TV.

†

It was well after midnight now. The party was over and almost everyone had gone to bed, but Xander walked back to the lobby, not wanting to confine himself to his room just yet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy, and it was just from seeing everyone else's joy and being allowed the privilege of sharing a small piece of it. He couldn't feel too proud that, whether directly or indirectly, much of that joy was partly only possible because of him, because of how close he had come to giving that up and destroying all of their lives. A small noise pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked around and froze, his mouth falling open.

"Renée," he said. He stared. There she was, just across the threshold, a familiar red, orange, and yellow knit cap on her head. He traced the silvery scar across her face with his eye, then looked at her neck and saw that the mark where Demetri bit her was now almost completely gone.

"Here I am," she said with a feeble smile. "I didnae miss out on too much skullduggery while I was gone, did I?"

"Nothing too serious," said Xander.

Biting her lip, she looked at him with what appeared to be painful amounts of anxiety. Then, it seemed she could contain herself no longer. "I'm so sorry, Xander," she burst out, her eyes filling with tears. "I should've come back sooner. Home was just so safe and comfortable, but I was being a coward, and I'll understand if you dinnae want anything to do with me anymore." He moved closer to her, but she kept talking, oblivious. "And even if you do, you probably want space and we'll need to talk things out and—"

At that point, he brought her sentence to an abrupt end by kissing her. She let out a squeak of surprise, but soon was kissing him back. Eventually, he pulled away, leaving her grinning rather dazedly. "Can all that stuff wait until after Christmas?" he asked.

"Aye," she said faintly. "I think it can."

"Good," he said, and he pulled her close and kissed her again.

* * *

So, yeah, this is what all of Xander's long-lasting feelings of worthlessness and depression were leading to. And just in case anyone is as nitpick-y as me, the reason the regular Buffyverse and the Xanderless one are several hours off from each other is...because of the time-looping stuff the Trio did to Buffy in "Life Serial", which obviously wouldn't have happened in the Xanderless world. Yeah, that stuff. Okay, but in reality, I just didn't realize that flaw until I was nearly done writing the episode, and I was too lazy to change one of the settings to match up the times better. *sheepishness* Anyway! So, most of you probably figured out from the title and almost everything that happened that this episode is an homage to the awesome Jimmy Stewart-starring Christmas classic _It's a Wonderful Life_. Which I adore. The biggest direct shout-outs to the film (besides the nature of Xander's wish and the fact that it came true in order for him to see how much he has always mattered, I mean) were Xander having both eyes while in the Xanderless universe (like the way George Bailey had his hearing in both ears while in Pottersville, even though he'd been deaf in one ear since he was a kid) and Jesse describing what he was doing as his "Clarence gig" (Clarence was George's guardian angel). And by the way, I loved this opportunity to write Jesse. The Xanderless universe took some serious planning to properly sort out. One of my favorite things about it is the way Angel and Oz are way scarier than in canon in a less human, predator-like way, and are, moreover, well-practiced at synchronized terrifying-ness, and Giles isn't even fazed by it because he's so busy being surly himself. Also, the brief flash of Sunnydale High kids eating the poisoned Jell-O from "Earshot" because Xander wasn't there to catch the lunch lady red-handed as she dumped rat poison into the Jell-O mix. It was kind of awesome to be able to write an episode set in Sunnydale, and to use the familiar settings like Giles's apartment and Spike and Dru's factory. Vamp Willow is always fun to have around in alternate universes, but I was still rather glad to have Xander stake her by the end. Oh, and there wasn't really a place to mention it in the episode, but Anya never stopped being a vengeance demon. So, yeah. Last couple of things. Baby Nicky! Hehee, so much love. And that bit with Buffy giving Angel a cross necklace. I just love that. And, of course, Renée's return (complete with Jayne hat) once Xander has finally stopped moping and discovered his worth. *happy sigh* Cheers!


	15. 9x15: Hyperion Avenue

Ugh. What can I say about this delay? I had lots of work, lots of school work, and lots of Writer's Block. This episode did not want me to write it. Obviously, however, I conquered it in the end. Now then, the time line is potentially very confusing, so I'll explain a little. This first chunk is a *flash-forward*, so denoted by the unusual page breaks (‡†‡) before and after it. Everything happening in the *present* will have normal page breaks (†) and normal text. Flashbacks, on the other hand, are in italics. You want to pay attention to the dates of each flashback; they coincide with certain events in previous episodes of the season. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy!

* * *

Episode 15: Hyperion Avenue

Guest Starring: Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Harry Lennix as Dr. Benson,

Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan,

and

Jewel Staite as Tahn

‡†‡

The stairwell was silent and bodies were strewn across the steps and landing like so many discarded dolls. With the exception of the smallest, all were those of demons with skin tones ranging from blue to light purple. The walls dripped a dark navy liquid, pools of which spread steadily across the carpet, their contrast with the single deep red stain hard to distinguish in the dim light.

A young woman with long, dark hair crouched over the body of the human. In one hand, she clutched the handle of an axe, the blade of which was dripping blood, and with the other hand, she reached to touch the face staring blankly back at her. "This isn't some story where good triumphs because good triumphs," she said mechanically. "Good people are going to die. Girls. Maybe me. Probably you. Probably right now." It was her voice, but they weren't her words. They were never her words.

†

Angel, Connor, Tobias, and Tahn all emerged onto the fourth floor landing and simultaneously stopped in their tracks. The latter two had been heading upstairs already when Connor heard some sort of commotion from the direction of the stairwell, and he and Angel followed. Before they could do more than recoil at the sight of the carnage on the steps in front of them, they heard an angry shriek, and someone hurled themselves towards them from the intermediate landing between the fourth and fifth floors. Tahn screamed as the attacker came straight at her. Tobias pulled her out of the way, and a split second later, an axe buried itself in the wall behind where she had been standing.

Connor and Angel immediately closed in and attempted to subdue Tahn's assailant, who lashed out at them both, shouting incoherent phrases in what sounded like several different languages. Catching a brief glimpse of her face as he and Connor tried to stop her from attacking again, Angel suddenly realized who she was.

"Dana?" he gasped in surprise. Sure enough, it was the same mentally unstable Slayer he had attempted to help while still CEO of Wolfram and Hart. Even as he said her name, Dana managed to land a very powerful blow to Connor's face, and he fell back, dazed and bleeding. Then she rounded on Angel and her eyes flashed dangerously in recognition. He felt a thrill of foreboding. She blocked his punch and her hands closed tightly around his throat, her teeth bared in a triumphant snarl of a grin.

Before any of the others could pull her away, however, her expression changed to one of surprise and something else—something almost tender. She released her hold on his neck at once, and he watched, bewildered, as she pressed one hand over the left side of his chest. "This is really happening, right?" she said. Angel's bewilderment increased; those were the first words Buffy had spoken to him after he became human. Dana withdrew her hand and stood there, looking lost but docile.

She turned her head to look towards the landing from which she had attacked. Angel, Connor, and Tobias (who was still holding a shaking and sobbing Tahn in his arms) all followed her gaze to the inert form lying there. The head was turned so that the face was clearly visible.

It was Andrew.

‡†‡

Friday, February 18, 2005

"Well, it sounds like everything's been going smoothly so far," said Dr. Benson.

"You're sure?" asked Angel, glancing at Buffy.

"Yeah," said Buffy, "this is all normal? I mean, I only got nauseous once, but isn't morning sickness supposed to be worse than that?"

Dr. Benson raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "Are you saying that you'd be happier if you were throwing up all the time?"

Buffy went slightly pink. "Of course I wouldn't," she said defensively, "but isn't that what's normal?"

"'Normal' is a relative term, especially with pregnancy," said Dr. Benson. "You're not the only woman who doesn't get morning sickness. It's common, but less common than TV shows and movies make it seem. Besides, you're well into the second trimester now; the time for morning sickness is long past. Now," he clicked his pen and focused on the next part of the page on his clipboard, "any movement yet?"

"Yeah," said Buffy, brightening considerably. "I started feeling that about a week ago." She smiled at Angel.

"Good," said the doctor, making a note. "Any unusual cravings? And before you start worrying, this one is just out of curiosity. As long as you're getting plenty to eat and it's reasonably balanced and doesn't include alcohol or drugs I didn't sign off on, there shouldn't be a problem."

"Well…," said Buffy, "I've been eating lots of Dawn's—my sister's—cooking, and I shared her anchovy pizza yesterday."

"I take it she's not your ordinary cook?"

Angel snorted, and Dr. Benson laughed. After rechecking everything on his clipboard, he put it down and looked from one to the other of them. "Ready for the ultrasound?"

It took about ten minutes to get everything set up, and Buffy privately agreed with Faith about how weird and uncomfortable it felt to have the cool blue gel painted across her gently swollen stomach. Angel was unusually fidgety the whole time Dr. Benson worked, occasionally making movements suggesting that he wanted to help, but then withdrawing in uncertainty. Buffy had to struggle not to laugh; a feat made much more difficult by her own nervousness.

"Okay," said Dr. Benson as he moved the probe around on Buffy's stomach, "want to see how Baby Gallagher's doing in there?"

As Angel had been less than a second away from abandoning his stool and walking around to see the screen Dr. Benson was looking at, and Buffy was craning her neck towards it, their answer was obvious, and he obligingly turned the machine around so they could see the black and white image.

Buffy unconsciously let out a small noise of wonder, and waved the hand closest to Angel around vaguely in search of one of his. He barely noticed enough to take it, so intent was he upon looking at the screen. He and Buffy both silently counted two arms and two legs, though they were prevented from counting the fingers and toes by the blurriness of the image. The right hand was blocking part of the face from view in an almost shy gesture while the left drifted by the drawn-up knees, the fingers opening and closing slightly.

"Want to know the sex now, or would you rather be surprised?" asked Dr. Benson after allowing them a long moment of awed silence.

Buffy and Angel tore their eyes away from the screen to look at each other, then back at the doctor. "Now," they said together.

"It's a boy," he said, smiling.

Buffy turned back to Angel and stuck out her tongue. "I win," she said with playful smugness.

Angel had no witty comeback with which to return fire; he was too busy grinning.

†

_Saturday, May 29, 2004_

_ "Andrew!" said Vi, surprised. "What are you doing here?"_

_ "I am here to bring a very troubled Slayer of the Vampyres," said Andrew in his best loftily mysterious voice, gesturing to the parking lot behind him, where there was a large van around which a couple of Slayers were standing. "I've been taking her around with me and the other girls for the past few months as we have sought more to join the cause, but now that this place is only the secondary headquarters and not the center of the action, I think she'll be happier here." _

_ "Okay," said Vi, even though the way Andrew had phrased it annoyed her. "Does Buffy know about this?" she asked._

_ Andrew failed to conceal his guilty expression in time, and Vi's face became stern. "Buffy has a lot to deal with already without having to worry about this," he said before Vi could voice her disapproval. "And just talk to Julie or Laura. They're the ones who spend the most time with Dana, and they say she's doing way better than when we got her out of L.A."_

_ "What do you mean, you 'got her out of L.A.'?" said Vi suspiciously. "That's where Buffy is now. Why would you need to get her out?"_

_ "No, I mean Wolfram and Hart. That Angel guy was going to lock her away in his fortress of evil lawyers."_

_ "But isn't Angel the one Buffy's dating now?" asked Vi, confused. "What was wrong with just leaving her with him?"_

_ "Uh, did you miss the part about his fortress of evil lawyers?" said Andrew, abandoning the ridiculous mysterious voice. "And anyway, Spike doesn't like him, so I don't think we can trust him. Maybe he's got Buffy under some kind of spell."_

_ Vi sincerely doubted that any of this was true, but she had conversed enough with Andrew in the past, whether it was via the Council chat room or in person, to bother trying to rid him of his delusions. "Whatever. What about Kennedy? Does she know?"_

_ "Are you kidding me?" said Andrew incredulously. Vi frowned at him. He sighed haughtily, causing her to roll her eyes. "There is so much you do not understand, young chosen one. Dana acts like whatever Slayer is closest to her…only, creepier and with less talking."_

_ "So?" said Vi, unimpressed._

_ "So do you really want a creepier and less talking version of Kennedy, plus the actual Kennedy? Because that is a recipe for pain, my friend."_

_ "Fine," she said irritably. "What should I say about this in my report?"_

_ "What? No! No report. This is totally off-record," said Andrew urgently._

_ "Why?" Vi demanded, crossing her arms. She had only been placed in charge of the Academy a week ago, and hiding things from Buffy and Giles and everyone didn't seem like the best way to keep her post. _

_ Andrew looked uncomfortable and focused his eyes on a spot slightly to the left of Vi's head when he spoke again. "I…might have said some stuff when I took Dana about it being Buffy's orders—but I mean, I'm sure she would have done the same thing."_

_ "Yeah, and that's why you want to hide this from her now," said Vi coldly. "This is your problem, and I'm not covering for you."_

_ "Wait!" said Andrew, his eyes snapping imploringly back to her face. "Look, I'm going to tell Buffy, okay? But I want to wait until Dana's doing better. Then it'll be a win-win for everybody."_

_ "What exactly is wrong with her?" asked Vi, glancing towards the van. Her irritation with Andrew faded somewhat as her concern for this unknown Dana grew._

_ Andrew suddenly looked more serious and subdued than Vi could remember ever seeing him. He turned to look at the van too. "Some pretty bad stuff happened to her when she was a kid," he said. "This guy—Walter Kindel, I think his name was—he killed her parents and took her to this old distillery and tortured her for months."_

_ "Oh my God," said Vi, horrified._

_ "She was in a psychiatric ward for years after that," Andrew went on gravely, "and then when Willow did the mass Slayer spell…."_

_ "She got called too," Vi finished._

_ "Yeah." Andrew turned to look at Vi again. "I don't think there's enough…_her_ left in her to be a normal person again, maybe ever, but it seems like all the broken pieces got sorta glued back together by her…Slayerness, so even if she's not so good at figuring out which people are trying to be nice to her and which ones aren't, she can still tell that Slayer equals amigo. I think this place will be good for her. Maybe keep her away from the weapons, though, just in case?"_

_ "Yeah," said Vi vaguely, still lost in horror and sympathy over what Andrew had told her. "Yeah, we'll do what we can."_

_ Andrew nodded, then turned to face the van again. He gave the thumbs up to the Slayers waiting outside it, and they opened the door. Two more girls got out, gently coaxing a third to step onto the pavement with them. Dana came without much reluctance; she seemed to be, as Andrew had said, relatively at ease around her fellow Slayers. They led her to the door of the Academy, where Andrew and Vi were waiting._

_ When Dana drew level with Andrew, she stopped and stared at him, tilting her head to the side. "Does it buy it all back? Are you redeemed?" she asked. She reached towards him and he flinched, but she merely traced her fingers from the corners of his eyes down to his chin before letting her hand drop back to her side. "It didn't want blood," she said. "It wanted tears."_

_ The other five Slayers watched this in mild puzzlement, while Andrew blinked hard and tried to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat._

†

"Oh, Buffy, I'm so happy for you!" Willow squealed, flinging her arms around her best friend. "Do you guys have any name ideas yet? I've got to start planning the baby shower. Ooh, I don't even know what to get for him! You're getting enough rest, aren't you? You know that your heart has to work almost fifty percent harder? You haven't been overtaxing yourself, have you? Like, with slaying and stuff? Because that's probably a bad idea from here on out." She said all of this in a single breath, with no audible punctuation.

"Gee, Wil, I'm almost scared to find out what you'll be like when it's your turn," said Buffy dryly, though her heart was practically bursting with joy. She'd just come back from relating all of her updates to Giles (who, as usual, was in the Archive), and his reaction had been just as positive and hug-filled as Willow's, though less exuberant.

"I'm looking forward to it, personally," said Oz. Willow's eyes went unfocused as she dreamily contemplated such an event.

"I dunno, man," said Xander, "can you imagine the mood swings?"

"Hey!" said Willow, snapping out of her fantasy world and smacking him on the arm. She pointed a menacing finger at him. "I'm gonna remember you said that."

"Is this a private party, or have you got room for two more?" came a familiar voice from the direction of the portal. The four of them looked around to see Faith entering the office, holding an almost two-month-old Nicholas in her arms. Buffy and Willow let out noises of glee and immediately moved forward to greet Faith and make goofy faces at Nicky, who stared at them intently for a few moments before rewarding their efforts with a toothless grin. They knew better than to ask Faith to let them hold him, however.

Xander hastily vacated the office (and was soon followed by an indifferent Oz) when the conversation degenerated into, as he put it, "fluffy baby shower talk".

†

_Wednesday, August 25, 2004_

_ "How's she doing?" asked Andrew anxiously. "I would have come sooner, but things have been pretty busy."_

_ "She's been fine for most of the summer," said Vi, "except—well, we all have nightmares, but hers are way worse, and for the past few days it's been pretty bad." _

_ They got to the fourth floor and then climbed the stairs to the roof, where they found Dana sitting in the bright sunlight, her eyes closed. One of the other girls sat a few yards away, reading a book. When she saw the newcomers, she got up and went back inside. For a while, Vi and Andrew just stood there and watched Dana. She looked so peaceful._

_ "You know," said Vi eventually, "it's going to be harder to keep this from Buffy and everyone else now."_

_ "How come?" said Andrew, alarmed._

_ "Dawn made these portal things, so now the Academy is connected to the Hyperion and this big ancient library place in London. Also Faith's apartment."_

_ "Oh."_

_ "Do you want to move her?"_

_ Andrew considered for a moment. "No. Nightmares aside, she looks like she's happy here. Well, as happy as she can be, I guess."_

_ "Nowhere to hide," said Dana unexpectedly. "No escaping."_

_ Andrew and Vi exchanged uneasy glances. "Dana?" asked Andrew uncertainly._

_ "Can't remember. No one remembers." She looked up at them. "Just because you don't know what it means doesn't mean it doesn't have meaning. Forgetting doesn't make it go away."_

_ "She's been saying stuff like that all week," said Vi. "When it's in English, anyway. Most of the time it's not."_

†

"And what about when he's in high school?" said Angel fretfully. "I mean, how am I supposed to give him advice? They didn't have high school when I was growing up."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, amused. They were lying on their bed, where she had just finished taking a much-needed nap. "I guess you'll have to be content to help him with his history. And literature. And foreign languages. And art." She giggled in a tired sort of way. "Are you sure we'll even need to send him to school with you around?"

"But what about when he's dating?" said Angel, still sounding worried. "That's changed a lot too. All I can do is tell him what _not_ to do. 'Don't follow strange women into alleys' being rule number one."

"Hey," said Buffy, poking him indignantly, "that worked for you the second time around, didn't it?"

Angel grinned. "Well, yeah, but I already knew who you were then."

"Stalker," said Buffy affectionately. Then she froze. "Hey, he's moving again."

Angel rolled over and placed a hand against her stomach, holding his breath in anticipation. When nothing happened, his face fell.

"Hey, it's okay," said Buffy, covering his hand with hers. "Dr. Benson said it might be another couple of weeks before you can feel it, remember?"

"Yeah," Angel sighed resignedly. After a moment of vague disappointment, he shook it off and shifted close enough to wrap his arms around her. She snuggled contentedly into the embrace, and they fell into a comfortable silence.

The photo album on the nightstand soon drew Buffy's gaze, and she picked it up and opened it. It had been a birthday present from her father—which he had delivered to her via Dawn, since she still wasn't speaking to him. Apparently, he had gone through everything he owned looking for surviving pictures of Buffy and Dawn growing up (Joyce's scrapbooks had been lost along with the house when Sunnydale collapsed). Many of the photographs featured Joyce, but very few included Hank—he had usually been the one behind the camera. The book was the best present he'd ever given her, and she still hadn't thanked him for it.

Buffy knew that Dawn had been spending a lot of time with him; the two of them had been going out to lunch about once a week ever since her graduation. Buffy had been determined to remain unyielding, but continued estrangement from her father, perpetuated by herself, was a less welcome thought now that she was carrying his grandson, especially when he gave her things like this wonderful book. All of Angel's family was long dead, and her mom was dead—this baby shouldn't be deprived of the chance to know the only grandparent he had left—even if, in her heart, Giles would always have a stronger claim on that role. Her face hardened with determination. It was time to swallow her pride.

†

_Monday, December 13, 2004_

_ "Great! This angle is perfect! Now, keep hitting him…," said Andrew, face screwed up in concentration as he hovered on the edge of the fight. Alicia, the Slayer who was currently on camera (whose ambition, most helpfully for Andrew's purposes, was to become a famous actress—or at least a stunt double for a famous actress) obligingly slammed the vampire she was fighting against the thick pole of a street lamp, simultaneously providing extra violence and making the best use of their light source. _

_ As to the vampire, he was rather annoyed at being used as a prop in this exercise, but was given little choice. Alicia punched him once more in the face, then in the stomach. He tried to hit back while doubling over in pain, but she seized his arm, spun around, and threw him over her shoulder onto his back on the pavement, where he landed with a heavy thud, his foot nearly catching the lens of Andrew's camera on the way down. Finally, Alicia whipped out her stake with a flourish and slammed it through his chest._

_ "Awesome!" said Andrew in delight. "Any signature catchphrases you'd like to impart now that you have vanquished your foe?" When Alicia only looked bewildered, Andrew sighed, slightly crestfallen. "That's okay. You've got plenty of time to think of one for later, and if you're still having trouble, I have a comprehensive list of worthy catchphrases to choose from and…possibly alter to avoid copyright infringement."_

_ Alicia was spared the trouble of answering at that point by a loud growling sound from across the street. Andrew jumped and nearly lost his grip on the camera, and they both looked around. It appeared as though the vampire who was dust at their feet had not been a loner. Already, six more whose wardrobes were of the same theme of black leather and metal spikes as his had been had materialized from the shadows and were making their way towards them. _

_ "Okay, private video shoot is over, how about we get some reinforcements now?" said Alicia nervously._

_ "Nobody else is in this part of town!" Andrew hissed._

_ "What? But this is Cleveland, not one of the little towns where you might find one Slayer! There are at least forty of us here!"_

_ "We're only here because I thought it had the best atmosphere for filming. Finding the perfect location isn't easy, you know!"_

_ "Andrew! I can't fight off this many by myself! I've only been doing this for a couple of months!"_

_ Andrew gulped. The vampires were closing in, rather worrisome grins on all of their faces, and to make matters even less promising, several more had joined them. Andrew and Alicia retreated, still facing them, but much sooner than they expected, their backs hit the solid wall of the warehouse behind them. They were trapped. The hand with which Alicia clutched her stake trembled._

_ But then, at least a dozen figures landed almost noiselessly on the ground in front of them. They were humanoid, but had long tails and blue skin, and they wore some kind of thin, flexible, black armor. Almost before Andrew and Alicia could register their arrival, they were sprinting towards the vampires, unsheathing short swords strapped to their backs and brandishing them with loud battle cries. Andrew recovered first from his shock by hastily training his camera on the fight, which Alicia joined seconds later._

_ All of the vampires were dust in under a minute. The demon who had worked with Alicia to take out the last one was now shaking her hand vigorously with both of his own._

_ "You are a Vampire Slayer, are you not?" he was saying as Andrew came over to join them and the rest of the demons gathered around, wiping their blades clean. "Such an honor to be working with you! I cannot tell you how much my fellows and I have looked forward to such an opportunity." _

_ Alicia smiled rather dazedly and gently tugged her hand out of his grip. "Uh, thanks for the help," she said. "We thought we were goners."_

_ "It was no trouble at all, I assure you!" cried the demon earnestly. The others all nodded their agreement._

_ "So, what kind of demons are you guys?" asked Andrew with great interest. "I mean, my first thought was Nightcrawler, except that he's a mutant, not a demon—although, since Azazel is his father, that might be open to debate—, and he has blue _fur_, not skin (no matter what the movie wants you to think), and you guys have all ten fingers, and—" Alicia forced him to break off there by jabbing him in the side with her elbow, but the demons did not seem to have been put off at all by his ramble. On the contrary, they all inclined their heads in unison, and the one who had shaken Alicia's hand stepped forward again._

_ "We are the warriors of the Tuul'Hith, at your service. We want nothing more than to rid the world of the vampiric plague and make it a safer place for generations to come. I think our goals are similar in this respect?"_

_ "You think right, my friend!" said Andrew happily. _

†_  
_

_ When Andrew, Alicia, and the demons arrived at the Academy, the grand entrance the former had been planning was immediately spoiled. Dana, who had been drawing her usual childish illustrations of demons and Slayers past by the coffee table on the ground floor while a few other Slayers did school work nearby, leapt up and launched herself towards the nearest demon, who recoiled in alarm. It took three of the girls to hold Dana at bay, but she continued to shout at the demons some strange language that nobody in the vicinity recognized._

†

Buffy held tightly to Angel's hand as she walked into the café—the same café, in fact, where she'd taken him almost a year before so he could break in his human taste buds. At her side, Dawn gave an encouraging smile. She knew how delighted Dawn was that she had finally agreed to give their father a chance. She also knew how much Angel had hoped for the same thing, even if he hadn't mentioned it more than once or twice. She was glad that there wasn't anyone to sway her against the idea.

Hank was already sitting in a booth, nervously playing with his watch, but he stood up immediately upon catching sight of them. His eyes widened slightly when they fell on Buffy. Even though he had already known that she was pregnant, this was the first time he'd seen her since she started showing. Buffy took a deep breath, let go of Angel's hand, and walked forward. Maybe the excess of hugs she'd been getting this week had something to do with it, but when she reached him, the embrace they hadn't shared for years felt surprisingly natural.

"You look beautiful, swee—Buffy," he said falteringly, the memory of her reaction the last time he'd tried to address her with that particular term of endearment fresh and painful in his mind.

They let go of each other and Buffy looked him directly in the face. "Thanks, Dad," she said, smiling.

It was a couple of seconds before he realized the weight of those two words, and the grin that resulted was slightly disbelieving. Angel and Dawn joined them then. Dawn hugged her dad and Angel shook hands with him, and they all slid into the booth.

†

Tobias was so exhausted that he felt like he might collapse any second. Ever since they had let him back into the Hyperion, he'd been running himself ragged, trying to make up for lost time in his Watcher training. His efforts had paid off, too. Mr. Giles seemed to approve of him quite a lot—although that might have had more to do with the fact that he wasn't nearly as obsequious as the rest of the Watchers-in-training tended to be. Instead of showing off any work he finished or repeatedly asking if there was anything else he could do, he stuck to the research and only asked questions when he needed to.

The book he was currently working on was in Latin, which wasn't exactly his forte—he was much better at Oriental dialects, particularly Mandarin Chinese—, and one passage in particular had him completely bogged down. After draining the last few mouthfuls of his third cup of coffee of the day, he marked his place, tucked the book under his arm, and set off in search of Mr. Giles. He found him rather sooner than he had expected, but before he could pose his question, Mr. Giles had taken the book out of his hands and given him a very stern look.

"Mr. MacGowan, how long has it been since you allowed yourself a break?" he asked.

Tobias stared at him, stunned. "Uh, it's been…a while," he said evasively.

"Right," said Mr. Giles. "Well, I don't think anyone could deny that you've more than earned one."

"But—"

"I imagine," he continued blithely, though with slightly greater volume, "that, as hard as you've been working, you haven't had the chance to see much of a certain waitress at the local club."

Tobias's mouth fell open. Tahn! He hadn't been to see her in ages! Realizing that Mr. Giles knew exactly what he was thinking and was watching him with a distinctly amused expression, he blushed. Giles patted him on the shoulder. "You run along and do whatever you like this evening," he said kindly. "I'm not giving this back," he added, holding up the book, "until you've let yourself unwind a bit."

"Yes, sir," said Tobias sheepishly. Without further ado, he turned to leave, intent on visiting The Lair. He passed one of the demons on the way out, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had never told Tahn that a couple dozen demons just like her were staying at the hotel. He couldn't wait to surprise her.

†

The office at the hotel was deserted except for Andrew when the phone rang. Delighted at the opportunity to be the voice of the business, he leapt up and answered it at once. "Hello, this is the Hyperion," he said, "primary headquarters of the Slayers of the Vampyres." He grimaced slightly. "And also Angel Investigations."

"Andrew?" said the voice at the other end, which he recognized as Dawn's.

"Oh," said Andrew, a little disappointed. "Hey, Dawn. Aren't you, like, out to eat or something?"

"Yeah, but we're about to come back now, and Dad's coming with us. He's a Muggle, remember?"

"Riiiiight," said Andrew thoughtfully. He paused. "So, why are you calling?" he asked blankly.

Dawn exhaled loudly. "Well, isn't there, like, sparring and stuff going on in the lobby? And possibly a few of your demon friends? Don't you think a Muggle might find that stuff a little weird?"

"Oh, yeah," said Andrew, feeling foolish. "Well, I can clear the way, if you want."

"Good," she said. "And hurry. We'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"Consider it done, little one!" he said, and he hung up, cutting Dawn off in the middle of her annoyed response.

†

Something was wrong. It wasn't a thought; it was something Dana could feel in her bones. She didn't understand why nobody else looked worried, but she didn't have the words to tell them what she knew. She had tried—the walls of her room were almost completely hidden beneath pictures she had drawn of what was coming, but they still didn't understand. But now, time was up, and if they still didn't understand, then that meant she was the only one who could do something to stop it.

It was easy to make it to the second floor undetected. They were all part of her, connected, and she could feel where they were. She stepped through the portal into a dimly lit stone passageway. She walked across it through another portal and emerged into an office. Even though she had never been here before, she knew her way around through all of the Slayers who had experienced the place.

There was no time; she had to keep going. Nobody looked twice at her when she walked out into the lobby; none of the people here knew her, and they paid no attention when she flitted up the stairs and out of sight.

†

"What's up, my blue and purple homies?" asked Andrew, attempting and failing a streetwise sort of swagger as he crossed the threshold into the largest suite on the fifth floor to tell the demons that they needed to stay upstairs for a little while. Fortunately for him, nobody saw this, for the inhabitants of the room were not present. Feeling slightly disappointed again, Andrew nevertheless remained there and began to wander about aimlessly.

He paused by a rack of weaponry against one wall and amused himself for several minutes playing with a few of the articles he found on it, pretending to be a ninja. Next, his eyes were caught by a table that was covered in sheets of parchment and old leather-bound books. Curious, he moved forward and picked up one of the books at random.

"Ad solstitium, bellator natus Interfectrictis sanguis Interfectrictisque fui," he read aloud haltingly. "Quando sui juris est, concedetur vim ignotam, itaque antiqua regnatrix Tuul'Hith corruet." He frowned. "Huh. I wonder what that means."

His Latin skills having atrophied somewhat of late, he hadn't gotten much farther than the first couple of words before he was distracted by the sound of voices coming from the next room. Still full of curiosity, he put the book down, crept to the door that separated the two rooms, and pressed his ear against it.

†

Buffy, Angel, Dawn, and Hank had barely taken two steps into the lobby when Buffy gasped, one hand flying to her stomach. "Angel!" she said, her face lighting up, beckoning frantically with her free hand. "Angel, come here, quick! He's kicking!"

Angel practically sprinted the short distance to her. Buffy grabbed his hands and held them against her belly, her heart pounding with excitement. At first, nothing happened, but then Angel felt a faint flutter of movement beneath his right palm. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in wonder.

"Feel it?" asked Buffy unnecessarily, her voice barely above a whisper.

Angel nodded, a smile slowly replacing his expression of shock. Buffy beamed back and threw her arms around him. Angel laughed weakly and returned the hug, too elated to find words. Over his shoulder, Buffy could see Dawn and her father grinning at her, the latter's eyes rather bright and watery. Her own vision blurred as she smiled even more widely. No, she definitely didn't want to force the soon-to-be grandpa to stay away from this.

Angel, meanwhile, had spotted Connor behind the counter across the lobby. It was plain that he had caught everything of what had just happened, but the smile he gave Angel when he saw him looking was oddly forlorn. Angel's own smile faded slightly. He eased out of the embrace and kissed Buffy very soundly on the lips. "I'll be back in a little while," he whispered. She looked around and saw Connor, then looked back at Angel and nodded before walking over to join her sister and father, both of whom immediately hugged her, and the three of them walked over to the office and disappeared inside it. Angel smiled at the sight, then gave Connor a meaningful look and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. Together, they walked to the second floor, but there were people in the hall, so they kept going up. It wasn't until they reached the third floor that they found a vacated corridor, where they stopped.

†

Tahn followed Tobias into the Hyperion, her curiosity piqued. For the past couple of weeks, she'd been wondering if he was ever going to come and see her again, but ten minutes ago, he turned up out of the blue and practically dragged her back to the hotel. She smiled brightly and waved at a group of Slayers she recognized, and they waved back. She blushed indigo when Tobias took her hand to hurry her along with him as they began climbing the stairs, and her curiosity grew even further.

†

"We have waited long enough, Taraen," said one voice impatiently. Andrew pressed his ear even more firmly against the door.

"You know that it has been necessary, Rahan. We cannot act until we are completely certain—"

"What more evidence do you need to be certain? The prophecy must surely refer to the child of Angelus and Buffy Summers. No Slayer is her equal in notoriety, so it must mean her. She bears Angelus's mark—he may be human now, but he has consumed her blood, so it must mean him. We have had it directly from their mouths that the child is due at Midsummer, and that it is a boy, so _he_ must be the one meant! He must be destroyed at the earliest possible opportunity, for the sake of _your_ heir, and yet _you _are the one who continues to cry patience and question what we already know!"

"You forget yourself, brother, and the fact that we are sorely outnumbered. Without being sure that we have gained their absolute trust, we will never get the Slayer on her own. We are nearly there; it will not be long before it is time to act. You also forget that Midsummer is not the only solstice, and that a son was born to another Slayer this past Midwinter. The evidence is indeed compelling in favor of Angelus's child, but there is no reason to exclude the other."

"So kill them both, but stop _waiting_! The prophecy is bound to turn up in one of those books from that gargantuan library of theirs, and then it will be too late. Their guard will be up and they will know why we are here."

Andrew backed away from the door as wave after wave of shock and horror crashed over him.

†

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Angel watched Connor carefully, his jubilation over feeling the baby move fading, replaced with concern for his firstborn. Connor wasn't looking at him; his hands were stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched. He was looking at the floor, his long bangs hiding his eyes.

"Everything okay?" Angel asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Connor, still not looking at him.

Silence fell again, and Angel wasn't sure how to break it. Fortunately, Connor soon took matters out of his hands. "Is it selfish?" he asked.

"Is what selfish?"

"Is it selfish when you've already got a family that loves you, even if on some level that's all made up, to want something impossible from your actual family?" His brow furrowed and he folded his arms.

"Are you jealous of the baby?" asked Angel gently.

Connor's jaw clenched briefly. "He'll have everything I didn't," he said. "You and Buffy love each other. He's going to grow up knowing that, and he'll be part of a real family." His tone suddenly became very bitter. "But I was just an accident that happened when you hit bottom and a psycho higher power seized the chance to start pulling the strings."

"You heard what I said to Buffy at the hospital when I told her about you," said Angel after a few seconds.

Connor nodded.

"I do love Buffy, and I already love this baby more than I can describe, but you're my son too."

For the first time, Connor looked up, and Angel knew that the boy who was raised in Quor'Toth was far closer to the surface than he usually was these days. He felt the old, familiar ache at the idea of his boy growing up in a Hell dimension swell painfully in his chest.

"I don't care if Jasmine's interference is the only reason you exist—all that matters is that you do. A child was something I never thought I would have, but then against all odds, there was _you_. No matter how much I can give this baby that I failed to give you, or how much I love his mother, it's not possible to love him any more than I love you, Connor."

The words seemed to take a few minutes to settle in, and then Connor uncrossed his arms and stepped forward hesitantly—almost timidly. Angel understood. He closed the distance and put his arms around his son. After a moment, Connor returned the embrace. At first it was tentative, but then his grip tightened fiercely, just short of becoming painful. Both father and son felt their eyes burn.

†

Panic clouded Andrew's mind, and he reeled in confusion. For months, _months_, these demons had been their friends. They'd been a godsend in more than a few battles. They'd showed the Slayers new and more powerful fighting techniques. They'd helped with the research! How could it all be a ruse? And _he_ had brought them here! He had to warn the others. He couldn't let any of them get hurt because of his mistake.

He turned to flee the room, only to come face to face with five of the demons. One look at their expressions told him that they knew exactly what he had just discovered through his eavesdropping. Losing his head completely, he dove for one of the swords hanging on the wall and ran at them, swinging the blade madly in front of him. Being unarmed, they scattered out of his way, but he hadn't even made it to the end of the hall when they came bursting out of the room after him, now wielding weapons of their own. He reached the stairwell unimpeded, but two of them leapt over the railings and landed cat-like on the stairs below him.

Andrew's panic seemed to choke him now. He backed against the wall as the five of them closed in. He couldn't remember the phrase he'd always wanted to use as his last words. "You'll never get away with this," he said in a strangled voice. "Even if you kill me, they're going to find out what you're doing and stop you."

"We'll see," said the nearest demon. It was the same one who had introduced the rest of the clan to him and Alicia months ago. The panic roaring inside Andrew was suddenly eclipsed by fury at how they had used him. He let out a yell and swung his sword fiercely. The wickedly sharp blade carved a fatal wound across the demon's torso, but the agonizing pain of the axe that had just buried itself in his chest made him deaf to his enemy's dying scream.

As Andrew collapsed, that scream was echoed by another, which came from the bottom of the stairs. The four remaining demons turned in time to see an enraged brunette come flying towards them. Without breaking stride, she bowled two of them over and wrenched the axe out of Andrew's chest, then whirled it upon them.

†

Connor went rigid, and Angel looked at him in concern. "What is it?"

"I heard something," he said, turning to look down the hall towards the stairwell, his expression apprehensive. They exchanged one glance and then hurried towards the stairs. When they reached them, they almost collided with Tobias and Tahn, who also seemed to have heard something, and the four of them continued on up.

†

San Francisco, California

Spike gave the bar a long, sweeping glance, and at last, among the crowd of demons of all shapes and sizes, his eyes fell upon the profile of his quarry. "About bloody time," he growled under his breath. Before he could move forward, he felt Drusilla's hand at his shoulder.

"Spike, my sweet, the music," she sighed. "Will you dance with me?" She looked at him with a pout and large, imploring eyes—a combination that usually rendered him completely powerless, but they were here for a reason, and he wasn't going to let anything distract him.

"We'll dance soon enough, pet. First we need to talk to my friend."

"Oh! You found him?" she asked, looking so delighted that it took him aback.

"Yeah. You've got your song ready?"

"Oh, yes," said Drusilla, nodding. "I've been practicing it very hard. Miss Edith thinks I would do wonderfully in a hall if Monsieur Thomas accompanies me." She frowned. "But I'm not sure he'll be able to. He's been dead for quite a long time now, and I'm afraid he hasn't been practicing his violin."

"Don't worry about that. You won't need any accompaniment for this."

She looked sufficiently reassured, so he led her towards the figure standing behind the bar.

"_You_ are not the easiest demon to find."

Lorne closed his eyes in resignation at the sound of Spike's voice. "Well, maybe you missed the memo," he said coldly, "but I didn't want to be found."

"By Angel," Spike scoffed. "Fortunately for everyone, I'm not him. Listen, I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important. I need you to do a reading for Dru. I can't make heads or tails of anything she's saying. Let's hope you can translate."

"I'm not in the game anymore, 'Blondie-bear', but it doesn't mean I don't remember how to play. So, even though you may have conveniently forgotten to mention that you lost your soul, I can tell. It sort of makes me think that helping you would only do more damage, and an interest in avoiding that was the reason I left the game in the first place."

"Oh, well, as long as the game's up," said Spike, and in one swift movement, he had reached across the bar and seized Lorne by the front of his vibrantly-colored suit. "There's no need to pretend that I'm _asking_."

Lorne glared at him bitterly, showing no sign of fear, but also offering no more objections. Spike released him and he smoothed out his suit with dignity.

"I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end," said Drusilla consolingly.

Lorne quirked an eyebrow at her, then glanced at Spike, who shot him another threatening look, and he sighed. "Fine, then. Sing, fair Ophelia."

Drusilla smiled at him, then began to sing in a clear, carrying voice that made everyone around them fall silent, transfixed.

"_For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.  
__And will he not come again?  
__And will he not come again?  
__No, no, he is dead:  
__Go to thy death-bed:  
__He never will come again._"

She closed her eyes and began to sway gently to the sound of her own voice. Many of the bar's patrons mimicked her movements without conscious thought.

"_His beard was as white as snow,  
__All flaxen was his poll:  
__He is gone, he is gone,  
__And we cast away moan:  
__God ha' mercy on his soul!  
__And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye."_

Spike watched Lorne carefully throughout the performance, and saw his eyes grow wider and wider in horror and his green skin blanch until it was pale jade. "God be with us all," he said faintly when she finished the final line. He clutched at the bar for support, then looked at Spike. "We have to go to L.A."

* * *

Okay, before I get to anything else, I should explain Drusilla's "Monsieur Thomas". She was referring to a famous French composer, Ambroise Thomas, who lived from 1811-1896, and one of his most notable works was an opera of _Hamlet _(which, as you hopefully picked up on from Lorne's "Ophelia" comment, was what I got Dru's line to him from, as well as her song). Next item: the episode title. My original plan was to model this episode after the classic film noire, _Sunset Boulevard_, but I realized not far into the outlining stage that it wouldn't work to have Andrew narrate everything like the murder victim of the film does, because a lot of this stuff is simply not what Andrew would focus on. So I just kept the convoluted timeline structure and came up with a Buffyverse-ified version of the title. Next item: Andrew's death. From the moment Jonathan died, I've been convinced that Andrew, as the last surviving member of the Trio, was doomed, kinda like the Marauders of the HP 'verse. He was the last surviving member of a named group, and he just always seemed to be marked for death. I'm very surprised that he's lasted this long in canon. So what I wanted to do here was give him a good final episode, which was kind of hard to do considering how often he screws up and how obnoxious he can be. Next item: Dana. As a recent reviewer pointed out to me, she was an unresolved plotline from _Angel_ season five that I never touched, but which I really ought to have. And that worked into this story much better than I could have hoped, what with the Andrew murder fake-out where she actually avenged him, and the way she's connected to other Slayers more than she is to her own mind. She's also fun in that it seems that only the insane characters (Dana and Drusilla) know what's going on, but they don't know it at a level that they can actually communicate to others. And finally, of course, all of the Buffy/Angel baby anticipation stuff. If you had done the math, you would have realized that this kid is a couple of years too early to be Kathy, among other evidence that proves it can't be her (like the fact that Willow and Renée aren't pregnant, even though the Osbourne twins and Jesse Harris are all roughly the same age as Kathy). So, yeah, there was the nice reconciliation moment with Hank, some bonding with Faith plus bonus Nicky cuteness, and, my personal favorite, the Angel/Connor conversation. Aaand, the demons. Yes, the demons are after the kid. With that dramatic chord moment, I shall depart. Thank you and good night.


	16. 9x16: It Runs in the Family

I suck. I know. I'm very sorry. No excuse can justify three months without an update, and my excuses are only school (which has been over since the middle of May), work (which has been very sporadic since the middle of May), and a sudden desire to watch _Supernatural_ in its entirety (which only struck me four weeks ago). By the way, that show is totally awesome (particularly when it involves Castiel) and could potentially affect the tone of my writing in some small way. I highly recommend it.

* * *

Episode 16: It Runs in the Family

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan,

Jewel Staite as Tahn,

and

Enver Gjokaj as Charlie the Bartender

†

"Come on, why not?" asked Dawn, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"We are _not_ naming him Mordecai, and you know it," said Buffy firmly, though without any real protest against this teasing.

"How about…Stacey?" suggested Hank, smirking.

"Don't listen to your crazy aunt and grandpa, little guy," said Buffy, looking down and patting her stomach. "Daddy and I won't name you anything that'll get you beaten up on the playground."

"Ooh, I know! Archibald," said Dawn.

"Could we please stay in this century?"

"Yeah, 'cause Angel's going to stay in it when he's picking names," Dawn snorted.

"He did in Con—," Buffy began, but abruptly stopped when she realized that she'd been about to blurt out Angel's connection to Dawn's boyfriend in front of their extremely in-the-dark father. "Con…versations I've already had with him," she amended clumsily. Both girls glanced at Hank, who seemed far less bemused by the obviously redirected sentence than by the sudden tense silence.

Before Buffy could do more to smooth the moment over, Dawn took charge. "Oh, come on. With names like Buffy and Angel, you think we can really trust you two to pick out something normal for my unsuspecting nephew?"

Buffy jumped on this with relief. "Well, _I'm_ not the one who picked my name, am I?" she asked, grinning at Hank, whose expression relaxed into amused indignation.

"If you didn't like your name, Buffy, you should have said something," he said sulkily. "I'm sure your mother and I could have thought of something else for you."

Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. "Thanks, but I'm happy being Buffy. Just don't be surprised when the tradition doesn't go any farther than me."

They were all laughing together in a way that certainly hadn't happened for years when Buffy noticed an extremely grave Angel standing just outside the office. Her face fell, and she walked over to him immediately, not sparing a glance for Hank's confused expression or Dawn's worried one.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Angel said nothing, but tilted his head in Hank's direction while giving her a meaningful look.

Buffy nodded and turned around to face her family again. "Uh, Dawn. Do you want to spend the night with Dad?" She looked quickly at Hank. "I mean, if that's okay with you?"

Dawn stared from Buffy to Angel and back again, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. Hank still looked confused, but not enough to object to the suggestion, no matter how out-of-the-blue it was. "That sounds great!" he said. "How about it, Dawnie? I've got a whole stack of new movies you'll like, and we can have an anchovy pizza all to ourselves."

"Sure," she said, while giving Buffy a you-_will_-call-me-and-tell-me-what's-going-on-as-soon-as-you-can look. "I'll just go get some overnight stuff. Want to help? I don't think I've shown you my room here."

Buffy watched them leave the office together. Then, feeling rather apprehensive, she turned back to Angel. "So," she said. "What's wrong?"

†

They stood side-by-side in front of the cage, arms folded and brows furrowed as they looked in at the damaged Slayer locked inside, currently unconscious thanks to a couple of the tranquilizer darts they kept on hand in case they had to subdue Nina during the full moon.

"You're sure she did it?" asked Buffy.

"I can show you the stairwell if you want," said Angel.

"I'll take your word for it," she said quietly. "So, Andrew and four of our demon helpers."

"Yeah. All dead before we got there."

"How's Connor?"

"Little banged up, but okay."

"And Tahn?"

"Tobias is taking care of her. She's still pretty shaken. Physically, she's fine, though."

Buffy turned to face him, stepping closer and putting a hand on his arm. "And what about you?"

Angel swallowed, then winced at the pain this sent shooting through his neck. He wished she hadn't asked, and knew she wouldn't accept less than a full, honest account. "She tried to kill me." As he expected, Buffy's grip immediately tightened on his arm, and her face filled with worry. "Probably would have done it, too. Connor was down and Tobias was no match for her. She had her hands at my throat and I couldn't get her off, but then she just stopped. All of a sudden, it was like she was channeling you, or something. She put her hand over my heart and said the same thing you said when you first found me in the sunlight." He paused briefly while they both relived that shining moment. "After that, I think she realized I wasn't a vampire anymore, so she went quiet. She didn't fight when Connor and I brought her down here."

"What are we going to do with the bodies?"

"The demons can go to their fellows. Whatever last rites they have in their culture, they should be done by them. Do you know if Andrew had any family?"

"I don't know about his parents, but he had a brother. Tucker. Remember the hell hounds?"

"Yeah." Despite the fact that everything related to that recollection was unpleasant, Angel couldn't suppress a slight smile.

"I think Giles had a Sunnydale High directory," said Buffy, "but it wouldn't be much good now that the town's a crater. Maybe Willow can track Tucker down online." She turned to look at Dana again. "Come on," she said eventually. "We've got to tell the others."

†

"Andrew's dead?" asked Willow, surprise and sadness on her face.

Angel nodded.

Willow looked around at everyone gathered in the office. Across from her was Xander, staring at the floor with his arms folded, watched by an anxious Renée. To their left was Giles, who was cleaning his glasses unnecessarily and looking troubled. Next were Angel and Buffy in front of the desk. In the chair beside them sat Connor, holding a fresh tissue to his bleeding nose. Finally, at Willow's side, sat Oz. When her eyes found his, he took her hand.

"How did it happen?" asked Xander.

Angel looked at Buffy, who was now leaning somewhat wearily against the desk. She gave a vague gesture to indicate that it would be fine with her if he did the filling in. "A mentally disturbed Slayer named Dana," he said. "I found her last year, when I was at Wolfram and Hart. Somehow, she got into the hotel, and she killed Andrew and four of the demons living upstairs."

"A _Slayer_ did this?" said Willow, horrified.

Buffy met her best friend's eyes, and found the same question she had written in them. Had they made a killer out of an innocent girl when they turned the potentials into Slayers?

"This girl," said Giles. "You say she's unbalanced?"

"Her parents were murdered when she was a child," said Angel. "Their killer kidnapped her and tortured her for months. Eventually she escaped, and she was in a psych ward up until she broke out last year, leaving a trail of bodies behind her. I was going to try to help her. Wolfram and Hart may have been evil, but they had resources. Andrew wasn't interested. He told me he was acting under your orders, and took her. Haven't heard a word about her since then." He closed his eyes. "Until today."

"The other demons," said Oz. "They know about this yet?"

"They'll find out soon enough," said Connor thickly. "Even a regular human can probably smell the blood in that stairwell from yards away, and those guys have to go through there on the way to everything."

"Think they'll want revenge?" asked Renée.

"I don't know," said Angel.

"They've been fighting with us for months with zero casualties, and now all of a sudden four of them are dead? I don't think acceptance will be their first instinct," said Buffy.

"But no matter what Dana's done, we can't just hand her over to them," said Angel.

"No, indeed," said Giles. "Perhaps it would be best if we don't inform them of what happened until we know more about how they're likely to react. It wouldn't do to have the whole lot of them turn on Slayers in general before we've had a chance to determine our course of action."

"I could ask Tahn." Everyone turned to face the doorway, where Tobias had appeared. How long he'd been standing there, none of them knew. "She's at the club now," he went on, "and she probably doesn't want to talk about any of this, but I can try. Otherwise, I'm sure there are books about her race in the Archive."

"It would be an easier search if we knew what they were called," said Giles.

Tobias nodded, his brow furrowed. "I'm sure she'll tell me that much, even if she doesn't want to say anything else."

Giles inclined his head. "Let us know as soon as you have any information."

Tobias nodded again and turned to leave, but hesitated. "And if there's anything else I can do…."

"We'll be in touch," said Buffy.

"Good luck," Willow added.

He gave a small, grateful smile and left.

"Now why did that guy ever think he needed to pull one over on us to become a Watcher when he could have just done _that_?" asked Xander incredulously.

Giles chuckled. "A fair question."

"What are we gonna do with Dana?" asked Willow after a long pause. "I mean, maybe I could try to reverse the Slayer spell for her, and then we'd send her back to a psych ward?"

"We'll see," said Buffy.

"So, uh, question," said Xander. "How did she get in here?"

Before anyone could even try to puzzle that one out, the curtain hiding the portal from view suddenly flew back and revealed a slightly out-of-breath Vi. Upon realizing that eight pairs of eyes were locked on her, she froze. "Uh. What's going on?" she asked.

"Vi," said Buffy, stepping away from the desk and towards the younger Slayer, "is there something you want to tell us?"

Understanding blazed in Vi's face. "Dana's here, isn't she?"

"If, by 'here', you mean 'locked in the basement'," said Xander.

"Locked in—" Vi blanched. "What did she do?"

"Killed four of the demons who've been helping us," said Angel. "Tried to kill me, my son," Connor waved at her with the bloody tissue he'd been holding up to his nose, "one of the Watchers-in-training, another one of the demons on our side, and—"

"Andrew," Buffy finished.

"What?" said Vi, who had been growing more horror-stricken by the second.

"He's dead," said Xander.

Vi put her hands over her mouth and staggered backward into a chair Giles had vacated earlier in order to pace.

"How long?" asked Buffy.

"What?" said Vi again, her voice much smaller this time.

"How long did you have Dana at the Academy without telling me?"

Vi's face went even whiter. "Andrew brought her to Cleveland a while after Faith and Wood's wedding, once you were all here in L.A."

"So, you had an unstable killer living with all of the inexperienced Slayers I left under your responsibility for almost a year, and you never said anything?"

"It was never my idea to keep quiet about any of it!" Vi protested imploringly. "Andrew was the one who wanted to keep Dana a secret. He wanted to wait to tell you and Giles until Dana got better."

"Well," said Xander, "didn't that work out great for him in the end."

†

It only took a few minutes of online searching before Willow succeeded in finding a number at which Tucker Wells could be reached. She was halfway through dialing it herself when Giles tried to gently take the phone out of her hands. She wouldn't let him. "No," she said. "It should be me."

"This isn't your fault, Willow," he said.

"Isn't it?" she asked. "I'm the one who made Dana into a Slayer. And, oh yeah, what about the time I tried to kill Andrew myself?" Giles tried to speak, but she cut across him. "I'm going to do this, Giles."

†

The second her dad left to pick up the pizza, ice cream, and various other movie snacks, Dawn grabbed her bag and pulled out the heavy book she had taken from the Hyperion's office. Just because this was a movie night, it didn't mean it had to be a completely unproductive one. Besides, she was getting really good at Latin now.

†

"I just don't understand how this could happen," said Vi. "When Dana's with other Slayers, she's harmless."

"What do you mean?" asked Renée. She and Xander had been charged with finding out everything Dana had done since Andrew took her from L.A., and were therefore currently getting a tour of her room at the Academy.

"Whatever that guy did to her when she was a kid, he broke her. I don't have a degree in psychology or anything, but I've been in charge of her for almost ten months, and I know that there isn't much Dana left. All that's really there is Slayer."

"So are you saying she's pure killing machine?" said Xander.

"No!" said Vi, so forcefully that he took a step back in surprise. "If she were on her own, maybe that's what she'd be. It sounds like that's what happened when she first got out of her psych ward, anyway, but I'm pretty sure that was more because of her past than because she's a Slayer. What we have is a calling to fight evil, not a switch in our brains that turns us into terminators."

"I dinnae think he meant it like that, Vi," said Renée.

"Oh, I'm the Slayers' Number One Fan," said Xander, holding his hands up. "Buffy's saved my life more times than I can count, and if we weren't busy with a murder investigation, I'd be trying to think of somewhere in the hotel I haven't made out with Renée yet." Here, Renée blushed and elbowed him in the ribs while Vi observed with an eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. "So, yeah, very down with Slayers, here. I'm just not as psyched about one who uses my friend's ribcage as a sword storage rack."

"I think it was an axe, actually," Renée corrected, looking sickened.

"Right," said Vi, who had clearly not been distracted from her point, "well, all Dana had left of herself was what happened to her, and then when she was called, she suddenly had the strength to fight back. She just couldn't tell her own demons apart from the real ones."

"And a lot of people got hurt because of that," said Xander.

"Yeah, they did. _Then_. But I can't believe she did it this time."

"She was caught holding the smoking gun!" said Xander in exasperation. "Or bloodstained axe. Which she threw at someone else's head before attacking a few more humans."

Vi's expression lost none of its mulishness. "Look, if she was going to do something like this, she would have done it months ago. When she's around other Slayers, she sort of fills in her blanks with pieces of us. I don't think I would have noticed it as much if it wasn't for her, but every Slayer is connected, and it's like she's hardwired into the system. She'll speak the native language of whatever Slayer is closest, and she'll act like her. She's calm and peaceful when she's around us, and she's never tried to run away."

"And whose pieces did she have when she decided to turn her bedroom into a showcase of Hell's Greatest Hits?" said Xander, gesturing around the room at the innumerable drawings of demons taped to the walls.

"She didn't have to get that from anyone else," said Vi quietly, exchanging a significant glance with Renée.

"What are you talking about?" said Xander, looking from one Slayer to the other.

"We all see this stuff in our nightmares," said Renée. "But by the looks of these, she has more room for them in her mind than the rest of us. I only recognize a few."

Xander felt like he should have known better. First there were the years of being best friends with Buffy, but then there was Renée. That one night at her family's house in Scotland hadn't been the only time she'd asked him to hold her while she slept because of those dreams.

"Yeah," said Vi. "Her nightmares were always worse, and this was how she got them out of her system. Look, it was Andrew's idea for her to stay here with us. He figured out the Slayer connection thing from the way Dana acted with his Slayers, and he knew she'd be happier staying wherever there were lots of us. Maybe she never makes any sense when she talks, and she spends most of her time drawing all these creepy pictures, but she never hurt anyone, and every time I saw her with Andrew, she didn't have a problem with him. The hotel is just as full of Slayers as the Academy, so why would she do something like this there?"

"Whatever Andrew thought about Dana isn't really helping him now. It doesn't change the fact that he's dead, she killed him, and you never told us she was with you until it was too late to stop this from happening," said Xander angrily.

"Are we done here?" asked Vi. "Because I've got ten different patrols to organize."

Xander and Vi continued to glare at each other until he was out of the room. Renée threw Vi a slightly apologetic glance as she followed him.

"You didnae have to get so argumentative with her."

"Dana just committed quintuple homicide—or, single homicide plus quadruple demonicide—and Vi's pretending she's just a nice crazy person."

"Aye, but can't you see why? Accepting the truth would be accepting that she failed. And she obviously cares about Dana. With this, it's like Dana betrayed her. She'll come round, but sooner if you dinnae harass her."

"And what did you think about all that Slayer connection stuff?"

Renée frowned. "It made sense. We have the same dreams sometimes, and we can fight together as a team with hardly any practice. Dana's mind is broken, so maybe being a Slayer is all she has. The connection could be stronger, since it's not disrupted by normal thoughts and feelings. I just wish I knew what set her off in spite of it."

†

Giles had just let a large demon encyclopedia from the Archive thud down onto the desk when the phone rang. He picked it up on the end of the first ring. "Hello? Dawn! I thought you were spending the night with your father."

…

He raised an eyebrow wryly. "Ah, yes, I was wondering where that book went."

…

His eyes went wide. "Are you certain this translation is correct? Yes, I have a pen. Start again, more slowly."

…

"Good work, Dawn. Yes, of course, I'll tell them immediately."

†

Whenever her sister was out on patrol with the rest of the big Slayers and all of those bossy Watchers-in-training were either in the big library or out doing cases, Livvy explored the hotel. It was big and old and full of interesting hiding places. They wouldn't let her fight monsters with them, so she fought imaginary ones. Once she had slain all of the vampires lurking in the empty rooms on the second floor, she dragged a large, scaly demon to the basement as her prisoner.

However, when she went to throw it in the cage and threaten not to feed it until it told her where it was keeping its victims, she found that the cage was already full. The dark-haired girl inside looked older than Abby by a few years. She was sitting against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring back at Livvy with her head tilted to one side.

"Oh, hello," said Livvy, squatting down in front of the bars. "I'm Livvy. Who are you? I've never seen anyone in the cage before. Except this blonde lady sometimes, but my sister doesn't let me come down here when she's in here."

The girl stared at her for a while, looking sad. "The monsters killed Mummy and Daddy and took Livvy and Abby to the dark tunnel with the other sad girls."

Livvy backed away, trying hard not to cry. "I don't want to talk about that. Buffy promised it would never happen again. Abby and I are okay now."

The girl nodded. "Safe."

"Yeah," said Livvy.

The girl got up and walked to the bars, then sank down until she was at Livvy's eye level. "Not safe. _They_ are not friends."

"Who aren't friends?"

"Sharp teeth, eyes that flash, purple-blue skin, long tails. Not friends."

"You mean the demons that live upstairs?" said Livvy, confused. "But they help. Abby says so."

"Only pretend. Have to stop them. Have to hurry."

"Can I help? Abby never lets me help."

The girl looked at her intently, then nodded. "Slayer, like me. Strong."

Livvy jutted out her chin and nodded proudly, then spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Wait here. I'll go get the key." It was only hanging from a nail on the other side of the room, but it was more fun to act like it would be hard to get. Halfway over to it, Livvy stopped and turned around. "Will you tell me your name?"

"Dana," said the girl, though she looked like she wasn't sure that was the right answer.

"That's pretty," said Livvy. "How come you talk all different?"

Dana looked down at the floor, picking absently at one of her sleeves. "Broken."

"Oh. I'm sorry," said Livvy. Then she brightened. "But once we get rid of the bad demons and save the hotel, then we can fix you!"

Dana smiled at her, and she beamed, then turned back to get the key.

†

"You needed us for something?" asked Angel.

"Yeah, Giles, what's up?" said Buffy, looking from one to the other. "Everything's going okay with the patrols, right?" She looked over her shoulder at the map of Los Angeles tacked to the wall. It was scattered with tiny pinpricks of light, and none of them were flashing red.

"It's not the patrols," said Giles. He sighed. "Dawn found a prophecy."

"Oh, God," Angel groaned.

"Why is that bad? You came out of the last one okay," said Buffy.

"That was a rare exception," he said darkly.

"Yes, anyway," Giles cut in, and their attention returned to him. "This prophecy."

"Let's hear it," said Buffy.

"'Ad solstitium, bellator natus Interfectrictis sanguis Interfectrictisque fui,'" Giles read from the paper on the desk. "'Quando sui juris est, concedetur vim ignotam, itaque antiqua regnatrix Tuul'Hith corruet.'"

Angel's eyes widened. Buffy, meanwhile, scowled. "Uh, guys, I don't march in the Revive the Dead Languages Parade. English would be nice."

"At the solstice," Angel began, his gaze moving from Giles to Buffy, "a warrior will be born to the Slayer and he of Slayer's blood. From the moment he comes of age, he shall be granted power unknown, and by it the ancient dynasty of the Tuul'Hith will crumble."

Buffy gaped at him. Feeling rather dazed, she let her hands drift over her stomach in an increasingly familiar protective gesture. "Our baby?"

Angel nodded.

Giles cleared his throat. "Not necessarily."

"Excuse me?" said Angel.

"The way it's worded, it could either refer to your son…or Faith's."

"How?" asked Buffy.

"Well, notice that it says '_the_ Slayer', not '_a_ Slayer'. You and Faith are the only current Slayers who were chosen by the traditional method. You've been a Slayer longer and you've done a great deal more in that role, but Faith was the last one to be called, which means that technically the line ends with her."

"So it could be either of us."

"Precisely. And the part about the father is no more specific. 'He of Slayer's blood'."

"The last blood I drank was Buffy's," said Angel.

Giles looked at him sharply.

"He was hurt, Giles," said Buffy, her hand drifting over to clutch her husband's. "Worse than I'd ever seen him. I couldn't just do nothing."

"I see," said Giles, still a little terse.

"I think the effects lasted a while after I became human, too," said Angel, partly to break the tension. "I was stronger than I should have been at first. Not by a lot, but it made the transition easier."

"Yes, well, at any rate, that part of the prophecy could indeed be about ingested blood, or else it could refer to an actual bloodline."

"Wood's mom was a Slayer," said Buffy.

"Yes. Now, one would think, with three clues, that just one of them would narrow it down, but no. The child in the prophecy will be—or _was_—born on a solstice. Nicholas was born on the winter solstice, and if I recall correctly, you're due on the twenty-first of June."

Buffy nodded. She glanced briefly at Angel, then asked, "So, whichever of our sons this is about, what does it mean for when he 'comes of age'?"

"Well, it says 'power unknown'," said Giles. "But that doesn't have to be anything extravagant. It just has to have never been seen before."

"Then, do you think…do you think it means he'll be a Slayer, even though he's a _he_?" she asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer. This might be a life she had grown to love and could no longer picture living without, but it was not one she would have wished upon her children.

"It's possible. Willow's spell removed the restrictions on the Slayer line. As we have seen with Abigail and Olivia, the calling now seems to be at least partially genetic."

"So if both parents were connected to it instead of just one," said Angel, "then maybe even a son could get it?"

"That theory does seem plausible, yes."

Buffy nodded silently, then walked over to one of the chairs and sank into it. Angel, meanwhile, stood frozen for a moment. Then, without warning, he punched the nearest wall, making Giles jump. "I wish people would stop making prophecies about my kids," he said bitterly. Even though it had been a fake, the first time something like this happened, it had ended with his infant son being taken from him. Only seeing Connor as happy as he was now could ease the terrible pain of that loss, but it couldn't give him back his son's childhood. And then the real prophecy about Connor had nearly gotten him killed. "Who are these Tuul'Hith guys, Giles?" he asked, still facing the wall.

"I was hoping the name would be familiar to you. I'm afraid I don't know yet," he said. "Perhaps I'll find them in here." He gestured at the large encyclopedia still sitting on the desk from earlier.

"I think I'll go check on Dana," said Buffy, needing a distraction. She heaved herself back to her feet and left the office. She was so tired. All she really wanted was for this day to end. If only it could have ended when she, Dawn, and their dad were laughing together, and Angel had joined the fun instead of bringing grim tidings. She had heard Willow's half of the conversation with Tucker Wells. It hadn't gone any worse than such a conversation could be expected to go, but it was still painful. He was going to come and get the body in the morning. For now, it was lying in one of the empty rooms.

In the lobby, Buffy found Willow, Xander, Renée, and Connor silently doing research. Oz, on the other hand, was looking at something on the counter with a frown on his face. Once she was close enough, Buffy realized that he was inspecting a sword and an axe that were covered in multicolored dried blood.

"These the ones from the stairwell?" she said.

"Yeah," said Oz, not taking his eyes off them. "I'm gonna go take a look at the scene of the crime."

"Why?" she asked, surprised.

"A hunch."

Buffy watched him go, then looked back towards the other four. "Let me know if anyone finds anything. I'll be downstairs." She could feel Willow's eyes on her as she left, but was glad that she didn't follow.

She wasn't even exactly sure why she was going to see Dana. The idea of a Slayer doing what Dana had done made her feel sick. Talking to Angel about what Giles had just told them would probably be a better use of her time, but it really wasn't a subject she wanted to contemplate just yet, and he obviously wasn't keen on it either.

She opened the basement door and walked in. At a metallic clinking noise, she suddenly began paying attention to her surroundings. Livvy was standing in front of the cage door holding the key, and Dana, now conscious, was easily within arm's reach of her. "Livvy!" Buffy cried. "No, get back!"

†

Tobias scanned the unusually deserted Lair, but there was no sign of Tahn. Remembering the state of near-hysteria in which he had left her, he was worried. Continuing to look around in case he missed her, he approached the bar, where Charlie was busy putting freshly cleaned glasses under the counter.

"Hey, Charlie," he said. "Have you seen Tahn?"

"Well, yeah, you brought her back twenty minutes ago," said Charlie dryly.

"Except that she's not here anymore."

"And you think I'm just going to tell _you_ where she went?"

"I—what?" For the first time, Tobias tore his eyes away from the Tahn-free surrounding area to look at the bartender, then recoiled involuntarily. Charlie was leaning across the bar so that his face was alarmingly close, and the expression on it was not friendly.

"She was just fine this morning. Then you take her out for an hour, and when she comes back, she's a complete wreck." He stepped back. "Tahn's my friend, so why the hell would I tell you anything?"

"I didn't do that to her," said Tobias indignantly. He knew he'd royally screwed up in the past, but that only made him defend himself more fiercely whenever accusations against him were false. "A crazy Slayer killed a bunch of demons like her and then tried to kill her. _I _saved her, but it was still traumatic, so I brought her back to get her away from where it happened. I wouldn't bother her again today if it weren't for the fact that a _civil_ _war_ between the demons and Slayers at the Hyperion might break out without the information she could give us about her species."

Charlie glared at him stonily for a few more seconds, then pulled his gun from under the bar, slammed it on the counter, and said, "she's in her room upstairs. You're in and out in five minutes or less, or I'll be up there with my gun to see what's taking so long."

†

Giles had gone back to the Archive to get a few books to cross-reference with the encyclopedia, while Angel remained behind, taking Buffy's vacated seat. He felt like he'd been clubbed over the head. Why did this crap always have to happen to the people he cared about the most? He thought he'd left that behind when he became human.

The phone rang, and he picked it up. "Angel Investigations," he said automatically.

"Oh, good, it's you. I thought I'd have to go through one of the overenthusiastic peons first."

Angel's brow furrowed. "Lorne? This is a surprise. It's good to hear from you."

"Considering the reason I'm calling, not really."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, but it's big, Angel-cakes, and migraine-inducing levels of bad."

"So, what, you're coming here?"

"No, not to the hotel. Know someplace we can meet without running into any Slayers?"

"Why? Who's with you?"

"Old friends."

Angel felt frustrated. _He_ was supposed to be the cryptic one. Still, if Lorne was worried enough to contact him after everything that had happened the year before, it had to be important. "Heard of a club called the Lair?"

"Yeah. We're not far from there now. Can you be there in fifteen minutes?"

†

His heart beating rather quickly, Tobias knocked on Tahn's door. Nobody answered, but he could hear a great deal of activity going on inside. Painfully conscious of his rapidly expiring five minutes, he cracked the door open and peered inside, only to immediately fling it wide once he saw what was happening within. "Tahn, what's going on?" he asked.

Tahn, who had been busy throwing a large pile of clothes into an empty suitcase, jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, a dagger clutched in her trembling right hand. "Stay away from me!" she cried, pointing the dagger in his direction.

"Hey, whoa, it's me!"

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? You're working with them, you sick bastard! You and everyone else in that hotel!"

"What are you talking about? Working with who?"

"The monsters that killed my family!" she shouted.

Tobias's jaw dropped. "A-are you talking about the demons back at the hotel?"

"Like you don't already know! I trusted you, and you practically handed me over to them!"

"I thought they _were_ your family! They've been helping us fight vampires and other demons ever since they got here!" Despite the dagger, he had been drawing closer to her without realizing it, and they were now only a few feet apart. They both became aware of the decreased distance at the same moment, but it only sent Tahn into further hysterics.

"I said stay _away_!" she shouted, brandishing the dagger again.

Unable to think of anything to do to calm her down, and certain that a very angry Charlie would show up any second if she continued to shout, Tobias acted on sheer, unplanned impulse. He closed the remaining distance between them with a single stride as, with one hand, he moved her dagger-wielding one aside, wound the fingers of the other through her hair, and kissed her.

If his own daring had amazed him, it was nothing to the surprise he felt when she kissed him back, but within seconds, she broke away and threw herself into his arms, shaking with renewed sobs. The dagger had fallen to the floor with a small _clunk_. All Tobias could do now was murmur random words of comfort.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Charlie, gun in hand, framed in the doorway, but the bartender took one look at the tight grip Tahn had around Tobias's torso before turning and leaving them as they were without a word.

†

"Livvy, step away from the bars," said Buffy, descending the stairs as fast as she could without taking her eyes off the cage.

"But Dana needs my help to stop the bad demons," said Livvy, frowning.

"No, Livvy, the demons aren't bad. They help us, remember?"

"Dana said that was pretend."

Having reached Livvy at last, Buffy took her hand gently and pulled her a few steps away from the cage. "Look, honey, Dana's in there because she hurt people. She can't come out." She held out her free hand for the key. Livvy looked at Dana, who had curled her hands around one of the bars, then back at Buffy, and handed it over, though she looked upset.

"She was gonna let me help her fight. Abby never lets me."

"Abby's right. You're only six years old."

"I'm almost seven!" Livvy protested. "And I'm strong like you."

Buffy stared at the obstinate little girl. Her heart twisted painfully as she pictured a similar scene, of a little boy with dark hair and eyes who wanted to fight but was too young to understand why she couldn't bear to let him.

"It shouldn't have happened yet," said Buffy, her voice unsteady. "Not until you were Abby's age. You shouldn't have to fight until then. I wish you wouldn't have to fight at all."

"No."

Buffy jumped and looked around. Dana was staring at her, her expression fierce.

"Slayer. Part of us."

Livvy nodded.

Buffy swallowed and met Dana's eyes. "It doesn't have to be this way. Willow is going to undo the spell for you. Then you won't hurt anyone else."

"No!" Dana screamed. She backed away from the bars, shaking her head violently. "Won't go back. Not Slayer…means broken. Empty. Weak." Her eyes locked on Buffy's again. "Won't go back."

"You killed people!"

"She didn't know they weren't bad, Buffy," said Livvy, tugging at her arm. "She thought they were going to hurt her like the bad man, and then they looked like demons."

Buffy stared at her. She was about to ask how she knew that, but then she could see it too. Brief flashes that were gone almost before they existed. She looked back at Dana. "Maybe you didn't mean it when you hurt those people last year, but what about today? What about Andrew?"

Dana's eyes slid out of focus. "Well, he was evil, and people got killed, and now he...bakes. It's a thing."

Buffy blinked, taken aback. "I said that. I think."

"She tries to use her own words, but she can't find them," Livvy explained solemnly. "The bad man stole them from her."

"Oh," said Buffy. She was starting to wish she'd gone back to the office and talked to Angel about the prophecy instead.

†

It had taken a few minutes, but Tahn had finally stopped crying and Tobias was able to get her to sit down at the tiny table in the corner of the room that served as the kitchen. He pulled the second chair around to sit next to her. "Look, if those demons really aren't what they say they are, then everyone at the hotel could be in danger, and they have access to the Academy in Cleveland and the Archive and everything. So I need you to tell me everything you can, and maybe we can stop them."

"You can't stop them," Tahn whispered. The grip she had on his hand was painful. "They don't stop. Not ever."

"But you got away," said Tobias, trying to sound encouraging.

She shook her head. "They let me. There had to…there had to be someone left to tell the other clans what would happen to anyone who got in their way."

"Why would they do that? Why would they just kill your family?"

"My grandfather wanted to stop them. Most of my race is peaceful. But them…they're called the Tuul'Hith. It means 'the untainted ones'. The only way to become one of them…is to rip out your own heart."

"What?" said Tobias, recoiling in horror. "Then how are they even alive?"

"We're not built the same way as humans. You know that idea about how the heart is where a person feels love and emotion?"

Tobias nodded.

"Well, with us, it's literal. Our hearts don't pump blood." She pulled his hand up and brought it to rest against the left side of her chest. The skin there was much warmer than that of her hands, almost as if there was a fire burning just below the surface. "They're the containers for our souls. Without them, we stay alive, but we're like machines."

"What did your grandfather do?"

"He was trying to find a way to make them whole again. He was afraid that their children would start being born soulless, and he didn't want anyone to be that way unless they chose it."

"So they killed him and his whole family for trying it," Tobias finished for her.

"It happened so long ago, and life just started to get so good, but now they're back."

"Why would they come here? What do they want?"

"They're warriors. All that matters to them is the next battle. They only fight demons unless they're threatened by something else."

"But they've been fighting _alongside_ us, not against us. Why would they do that if we were a threat?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have something they want, and they need you to trust them first. The Tuul'Hith never fight alongside anyone but themselves, so whatever it is, they must want it bad."

Tobias stood up. "I have to get back to the hotel. I have to warn everyone."

"But what if they kill you?"

He swallowed hard. "Then they kill me. But hopefully nobody else will die."

†

Oz didn't like this. He had seen the bodies and the explanation had been simple, but something was just…off. The blood on those weapons. The axe had both red and blue all over it, the sword only blue. That was what everyone could see. But the smell. The blood on the sword had only come from one demon. It was hard to smell anything else under the blood, but the handle of the sword didn't have Dana's scent on it, it had Andrew's. Of course, it was faint, and mingled with the myriad of scents on the axe sitting right next to it, so he could easily be wrong. Connor's sense of smell rivaled his own, and he hadn't noticed anything. But still, Oz had to check.

His eyes started watering when he was still a flight of stairs away from where it had happened, and he could barely see through the moisture by the time he arrived. There were even more smells now, and the blood was overwhelming. Hardly less obvious, though, was fear. It was everywhere. Mostly Andrew's, but also the demons', and even traces of it, though much less noticeable, from Angel, Connor, Tobias, and Tahn.

Oz frowned and visualized the attack the way they assumed it had happened. Dana chased Andrew up the stairs and caught up with him just when he ran into the demons, and then killed them all. It didn't fit. The smell of fear didn't start until this level. Maybe Andrew was already up here with the demons when Dana found them? Oz walked up a few steps, then leapt the next several to avoid the pools of blood that had now partly crusted into the carpet.

The air was a little clearer at the top of the stairs. There was no blood here, and the only fear was Andrew's. Dana's scent had ended on the intermediate landing. Something had made Andrew afraid before she showed up. Oz followed the trail of Andrew's fear down the corridor, the suspicion forming in his mind filling him with trepidation.

It wasn't long before he could make out voices, all of them coming from the room where the trail ended, but there were too many mingling together to understand any words. He reached for the doorknob.

"It is time," said an authoritative voice inside the room, causing the rest to fall silent immediately. "Most of the Slayers should be patrolling by now. Our way is clear. You know what to do. Fail, and your lives will be forfeit."

The door burst open in front of him, and he met the flashing eyes of the first two demons coming out. Without so much as an initial start of surprise, both lunged forward at him with swords. If it hadn't been for his suspicions and what he had just heard, he would have had absolutely no warning. As it was, he leapt aside, avoiding the blades by millimeters, then rammed his shoulder into the demon that was closer, causing him to topple into the other one, and they both went sprawling in the doorway, but another pair simply bounded over them, barreled full force into Oz, and sent him smashing through the door across the hall. Demons poured out of the first room and took off towards the staircase.

At least fifteen had gone when Oz tore back into the hall with a snarl, now in wolf form. The two he had knocked over were on their feet again, and he went straight for them. The first was dead in seconds, his throat a mess of torn flesh and blood. The second was quicker, managing to prevent Oz's jaws from latching around his neck, but unable to stop him gouging long slashes across his chest and arms with his claws.

But then the next demons emerged from the room, and immediately came to the aid of their fellow. There were too many for him to fight alone.

_WILLOW!_

†

"What is it?" said Xander in alarm when Willow sat bolt upright in her chair so violently that she sent the book on her lap flying.

"Oz," she said, and then vanished in a blast of white light without another word.

Xander barely had time to exchange mystified and worried looks with Renée and Connor when the hotel doors burst open to reveal a frantic Tobias. "We have to get those demons out of the hotel, now!" he said.

"What are you talking about?" asked Xander as he and the other two got to their feet.

"What did you find out?" said Giles as he appeared in the doorway to the office.

"Those demons massacred Tahn's entire family," said Tobias. "They're called the Tuul'Hith."

Giles went white. "Dear God." For a second, he seemed too horrorstruck to move or speak, but then he jerked back to life. "Where's Buffy? We have to get her out of this hotel immediately."

"Too late," said Connor, his eyes on the top of the grand staircase.

†

Traffic was better than Angel expected it would be, so he arrived at the Lair a few minutes early. Lorne wasn't there yet, but a couple of orange, scaly demons were at the bar, apparently having a drinking contest, watched by Charlie. Willy emerged from the back room when he reached the bar.

"Hey there, Angel," he said. "What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?"

"Not sure yet."

"Well, whatever you're drinking, it's on the house." Tahn came out of another door behind the bar just then, clutching a broom in her hands and the dustpan with her tail, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Angel had heard the strain beneath Willy's friendly tone. "If you still want to say that after this is over," he said, "I'll take you up on it."

"No need to make this sound more ominous than it is, now, mate. Because, believe me, it doesn't need any help."

Angel froze. He could see an uncharacteristically moody-looking Lorne reflected in the mirror behind the bar, but that wasn't who had spoken.

"Spike." He turned around, and it was only with a great effort that he concealed his shock. "And Drusilla."

†

Of the six additional demons that had come out of the room, Oz had managed to kill one and ruin the sword arm of another when Willow arrived in the usual brilliant flash of light. The second the light faded, a demon was lunging at her with his sword. She yelled in alarm and threw up her hand, creating a temporary shield.

"It's the witch!" one of them shouted.

"You're darn right it's the witch!" said Willow, her lip curled. She flicked the hand she had used to make the shield, and the four demons nearest her were thrown from their feet and flung against the wall.

_Want to tell me what their problem is?_ she asked Oz in her head.

_Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever it is, they're ready to die for it._

_Then they will._

†

"Here," said Connor, who had somehow gotten to the weapons cabinet without anyone noticing. He tossed an array of swords and axes to Giles, Xander, Renée, and Tobias, then confronted the demon who had just vaulted over the upstairs banister and landed in the middle of the lobby head on. Several more who had taken the stairs were now at the bottom. At least five peeled off and exited the hotel, but the rest turned towards the lobby, where they met Tobias first. He had no time for attacks of his own; he was too busy preventing theirs from taking off his head and limbs. Renée came to help, and together they took one of them down, by which time Xander and Giles had also entered the fight.

Tobias looked over and saw Connor running his demon through. "That won't work!" he yelled. "They don't have hearts!"

"No, but you do," said a voice in his ear, just as an agonizing pain pierced the left side of his back and drove inward. Tobias crumpled to the floor, struggling to draw breath. Connor, having dispatched his opponent successfully this time, went after the one that had stabbed Tobias.

Two demons confronted Giles at the door to the office. "Let us pass."

"Under no circumstances," said Giles calmly, brandishing his sword. Warriors they might be, but they certainly hadn't been fencing as long. It was about fifteen seconds before the first demon fell. The other raised his own blade to attack when steel flashed suddenly behind him, severing his spine. "Good show, Xander," Giles panted as the second demon collapsed on top of the first, and together they rejoined the fight.

Locked as they all were in fierce combat, they didn't notice when four demons slipped down the hall towards the basement door.

†

"No, no," Dana moaned. "They're coming. Won't stop until he's dead."

"What are you talking about?" asked Buffy.

"They are _not_ friends."

Livvy gasped. "She means the demons who live upstairs!"

"But—" Buffy broke off as a searing pain went through her abdomen. She cried out and fell to her knees. A split second later, the door at the top of the stairs banged open and demons poured in.

Livvy looked at them, and then at Buffy doubled over in pain, then turned and put the key in the lock. It clicked loudly, and the door swung open.

†

"Oh, no, no, no. Not again," said Willy, his voice shrill. "I do not want these two in my club." Then, more to himself, "Why'd I have to give that bouncer the weekend off?"

"I think you're just going to have to deal with it," Angel muttered, not taking his eyes off Spike's—partly so he wouldn't slip and look into Drusilla's. He couldn't stop thinking how surreal this was, particularly as he could feel the cross Buffy gave him resting against his chest beneath his shirt.

A new song began over the speakers, and Tahn began to sing along over where she was sweeping by the stage, though with much less than her usual enthusiasm.

"Well, well, well, look who's gotten older," said Spike. His eyes darted down to Angel's left hand, and his jaw clenched. "And married."

"How'd you lose your soul, Spike? Thought it was stuck on a little tighter than mine."

"Guess I missed a spot."

"Daddy's all gone and I'm an orphan," said Dru reproachfully. "But I'm a good mummy, and I wouldn't do that to my Spike."

"Illyria?" asked Angel.

"It's been a good game of hide and seek," said Spike. "Blue bird's still 'it', though. Probably show up here in a few days."

"Can we stop with the high noon standoff-themed family reunion?" said Lorne. "Unless I'm the only one who remembers why we're all here."

"Fine with me," said Angel. "What's dire enough to bring these two into Slayertown?"

"Apocalypse," said Spike, no trace of sarcasm or bravado in his voice now.

"And that's something you want to stop?"

"Don't pull that on me, Angelus. End of the world was your game. Soul or no soul, I never wanted that."

"Maybe my memory's going in my old age, but didn't Dru leave you for trying to save the world that one time?"

"Angel, this isn't the warm, fuzzy, 'mankind loses, so the demons get to play' end of the world," said Lorne. "Everyone loses if these guys win."

Angel felt a chill shoot down his spine, and tried to ignore the way Drusilla had begun to tilt her head and stare off into the distance. "Who are they?"

Lorne started to open his mouth to answer when he went rigid, then spun around to face Tahn, who was now singing along with the chorus. "Everyone get down now!" he yelled, before diving under a nearby table.

Spike grabbed Dru and threw them both flat on the floor. Angel jumped and rolled over the bar, landing behind it next to Willy, who was crouching down and trembling, and Charlie, who was holding a gun and looked ready to use it. Tahn shrieked and took cover behind the set of drums on the stage.

The only ones in the club who didn't move were the scaly orange demons. Two sickening _thuds_ accompanied by screams of pain told everyone else that this had been their fatal mistake. Angel felt Charlie move next to him, and then a stake was pressed into his hand. The two of them exchanged glances, then rose high enough to peer over the top of the bar. Six or seven of the demons from the hotel were there, poised for the attack.

†

Willow had conjured more durable shields for both herself and Oz, and was now repeatedly tossing three of the demons against the wall as if they were ragdolls. Feet away, the shield allowed Oz to fight entirely offensively, but he had noticed that the majority of the demons seemed to be more concerned with getting past them than fighting, and most of them had succeeded in doing so.

"We were ready for your arrival, witch," spat the demon whose arm had encountered Oz's claws. With his other hand, he had drawn some kind of complicated symbol across the breastplate of his black armor with the blood pooling out of his mangled limb. Willow looked at the design in confusion. The demon smiled triumphantly and pressed his palm to it. Blue-white flames exploded into life, engulfing his entire body. Willow screamed and attempted to fight off the overpowering force that was suddenly attacking her, but she couldn't stop it.

Oz watched in horror as she disappeared in another blast of light, then let out a deafening bark of fury and renewed his attack. He tried to contact Willow with his mind while he bit and slashed, but there was no response.

He had fought his way into the room containing the last four demons, but he could feel his strength beginning to ebb. They were forcing him more on the defensive now, and he was getting sloppier. He landed a powerful blow across one demon's face with his paw, but before he could follow up, a sharp pain lanced deeply through his left shoulder, and the smell of his own blood filled his nostrils. The demons weren't trying to get past him anymore; now they were going for the kill, and they had cut off his path to the door. Knowing he only had one chance, he ducked another pair of sword blades and sprinted across the room, sprang up onto the bed, and smashed through the window.

He landed hard on the fire exit platform, overbalanced, and tumbled down a flight of stairs. Every time he hit his wounded shoulder was agony, and everything else hurt too when he came to a stop, but he had to keep going. At least two of them were still on his tail. He ran, taking both of the remaining flights in three bounds or less, and finally leapt down onto the top of a large dumpster. He could only hope that his knowledge of the area's back alleys was more extensive than the demons' and pray that Willow was okay.

†

From across the lobby, Renée saw Xander take a nasty blow to the head and collapse. She yelled and tried to reach him, but the demon she'd been fighting had other ideas. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sword, and moved out of the way so that it only caught her on the arm. It was still a bad cut, but had fortunately fallen on her right arm, so her retaliation was just as strong as ever, and the demon fell. She made it to her target just when he was about to finish off her unconscious boyfriend, and swung her axe into his neck.

Behind her, another demon slammed Giles into one of the pillars. He slid down it and didn't get up. Now she and Connor were alone against the five that were left. They quickly moved closer together until they could fight back-to-back and struggled to beat the odds.

†

"I guess it is a civil war after all," Angel observed.

"Whatever, man," said Charlie. "Know how to kill these things?"

"I'm about to find out," Angel replied, then jumped up and hoisted himself back over the bar. It seemed that whatever weapon the demons used when they first entered the club had been a one-shot deal, because all they had now were swords. He jumped backward to avoid an attack, then lunged in and drove the stake deeply into the demon's chest.

"Try that on a vampire next time," he said with a cold smirk. "There's nothing there to stake."

"Okay," said Angel, twisting the demon's sword-wielding arm around until the blade was pressed against his throat. "I guess I'll have to improvise." With that, he shoved hard on the blunt side of the blade, and the demon fell to the floor, twitching. Angel pulled the sword free and turned to Charlie. "Like that." He heard a sickening _crack_ behind him and spun around to see Spike standing over another dead demon.

"Or that," he said, dusting off his hands.

There was a deafening blast from Charlie's gun, and a third demon toppled over, most of his head blown away by buckshot. Dru had another one hypnotized and ready to be used as her newest fingernail sharpener. To no one's surprise, Willy remained cowering behind the bar.

A shrill scream suddenly came from the stage. Angel and Charlie turned and saw Tahn being dragged out from her hiding place by the hair. They both started to run over to help her, but Lorne rendered such action unnecessary at that point when he unleashed his paralyzing high note. To the three humans present, it was merely extremely unpleasant, but every demon in the room, including the ones on their side, clapped their hands to their ears in pain.

"Bloody hell, Lorne!" Spike shouted indignantly.

"Ooh, I think I should much prefer a baritone!" Drusilla wailed.

Regardless, Lorne held the note until Angel had killed the demon holding Tahn.

†

Dana was out of the cage and on top of two demons at once in a split second. The other two went around and headed straight for Buffy, who was still on the ground. The first one to reach her seized her by the throat and slammed her up against the bars of the cage. Before he could do more, however, Livvy came flying out of nowhere and latched both small arms around his neck and her legs around his chest.

"I won't let you hurt her!" she yelled, squeezing as tightly as she could with all the considerable strength of her tiny frame. The demon let go of Buffy, then staggered and fell, his airway crushed. The other one made to throw Livvy aside, but his snarl turned into a gurgle of pain. Buffy had stabbed him with the sword the first demon had dropped. She twisted the handle sharply, and he jerked and dropped to the floor. Another wave of agony swept through her and she collapsed once more, unable to fight off the dark blotches now multiplying across her field of vision.

* * *

Now, what's the Character in Mortal Peril/Uncertain Fate count? Buffy, Livvy, Dana, Willow, Oz, Xander, Giles, Tobias, Connor, Renée...ten. Eleven if you count Buffy's baby. I have eleven characters in mortal peril or whose fates are uncertain. That's got to be a record. Incidentally, the episode's official word count on my word processing program is exactly ten thousand words, which is my upper limit for episode length. That makes me happy.


	17. 9x17: Sleeping Dragons

Here we go! Cripplingly huge plot problems solved, so let us get on with this neglected tale at long last.

* * *

Episode 17: Sleeping Dragons

Guest Starring: Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan,

Jewel Staite as Tahn,

Enver Gjokaj as Charlie the Bartender,

and

Harry Lennix as Dr. Benson

†

Livvy's breathing was shrill and rapid with panic. This was all far too similar to the attack that had ended with her parents dead and herself and her sister imprisoned by vampires. Buffy was unconscious on the floor, the bodies of two demons sprawled nearby. Livvy moved forward to try to wake her, but a sound behind her made her spin around. Dana was still fighting the other two demons on the staircase. She managed to wrest a sword from one of them, and navy blue blood spattered the wall a second later. A furious swordfight ensued between her and the remaining demon. She had inflicted several wounds, though shallow, when his tail whipped around and coiled around her ankle, pulling her off-balance and giving him the upper hand, which he did not waste. The next flash of steel was his blade plunging through her torso.

Livvy screamed, and he looked around at her. Before he could so much as take a step towards her, however, Dana seized the hand still gripping the hilt of his sword with her own free hand to keep him where he was, and with the other, swung her sword. His body tumbled down the stairs. Dana tugged his sword back out of her with trembling hands and staggered backward against the wall. Livvy ran towards her. Dana's eyes, something in them already beginning to dim, fixed on the little girl with difficulty.

"You're gonna be okay, right?" Livvy asked, her lip trembling.

Dana's hand found one of hers. "You…safe now," she said, struggling to get the words out. "Time to go."

"But we're going to fix you!" Livvy protested, even as Dana's hand went limp and released hers. Her eyes filled with tears. "You saved us! It's not fair!"

†

Connor had faced odds far worse than this before, but he had never had three wounded and unconscious allies to protect in addition to defending himself, and these demons clearly had no scruples against attacking them if it meant distracting him. They worked together as a flawless unit, and it was all Connor could do to keep them from separating him from Renée, who was now showing definite signs of fatigue due to blood loss from the wound in her right arm. But she clearly wasn't done fighting yet, for just as Connor deflected blows from two demons' swords at once, he heard the unmistakable sounds of steel cleaving flesh, followed by an inhuman dying scream.

To his horror, no sooner had the sound of the body hitting the floor reached his ears than two of the remaining four demons broke away from the fight and charged towards where Xander lay crumpled on the floor and where Giles was slumped in a sitting position against a pillar. "No!" he shouted, elbowing the demon that had remained to fight him hard in the throat and tearing after the other two. In desperation, he hurled his sword at the demon closest to him with all his strength. It spun through the air and met its target with deadly accuracy. But that still left the other demon, who reached Giles first.

Connor seized him from behind a second later and pulled him away, but immediately felt something wrap itself tightly around his neck. He kept the demon in a one-armed grip while with his free hand he tugged at the thing that was strangling him, which he soon realized was the demon's tail. Releasing the unyielding coils around his throat, he instead grabbed the tail where it was more exposed and forcefully wrenched it in a direction it had never been meant to bend. The demon let out a yell of pain and the broken tail ceased its strangling at once, and Connor wasted no time in seizing him about the head and jerking it sharply to the side, snapping his neck.

He turned just in time to see Renée deliver the killing blow to the last demon, but when she looked in his direction, her eyes widened in horror. "Giles!" she cried. Connor looked around and saw with an awful jolt to his guts that he had not reached the demon in time, for his sword was protruding from Giles's torso, just below his ribcage.

Almost mechanically, Connor moved forward and grasped the handle of the sword. He heard Renée start to protest in a choked, squeaky voice, but he ignored her and slowly pulled the sword back out, then let it clatter to the floor beside them. "Check on Xander and Tobias," he told Renée, who reluctantly obeyed, though she cast frequent glances back at Giles.

Connor had enough experience with wounds, mostly from inflicting them, to know that this one was mortal, but he still bent closer to examine it, hoping he was wrong. He peered through the hole the sword had made in Giles's clothing and barely managed to refrain from jumping backward in alarm. He could see the wound clearly, but with each passing second, there was less of it to see, for what looked like thin tendrils of dense shadow were knitting the flesh back together. He looked up and saw that the same thing was happening to a gash on Giles's cheek. It seemed that Bracchion's curse wasn't going to let one of its hosts die so easily.

†

The fight was over, but Angel maintained a slackened grip on the handle of the sword all the same. Likewise, Charlie continued to hold his shotgun at the ready. Compared with Spike and Drusilla, both men were somewhat the worse for wear: Charlie had a black eye and was lifting his shirt to gingerly examine a pair of ribs that were likely cracked or broken, and blood was dripping from under Angel's hair and leaking from the corner of his mouth.

"They all dead?" Angel asked, glancing at each unmoving demon body lying among in the wreckage of overturned tables and chairs.

"Far as I can tell," said Spike, predictably sardonic. "Buggers didn't have heartbeats in the first place, so I can't exactly listen for vitals."

Angel reached up with his free hand to wipe the blood away from his face, and as he did, happened to look around and notice that Drusilla was staring at him with an unnerving intensity. He looked from her to Spike, who was now doing the same, and realized with an uneasy lurch of his stomach that the authority he had held over both of them from the moment they became vampires had been completely undermined by the fact that he was now human. And therefore food. Probably more appetizing than most, if human sire blood was anything like family blood. Still, he had never feared either of them before and had no intention of starting now.

Meanwhile, Lorne, who—with the exception of his high note—had not participated in the fighting, walked to the stage and gently coaxed Tahn over to the others. They had just reached them when Angel saw movement out of the corner of his eye and spun around. One of the demons was apparently less dead than they had thought. Tahn let out a fearful cry, Charlie aimed his shotgun, and Drusilla hissed softly in displeasure. Before they could do anything else, Angel strode forward. In a surprisingly fluid and violent move, he seized the demon by the throat, heaved him up, and slammed him across the top one of the club's spindly-legged round tables, which threatened to collapse under his weight.

"You know," said Angel in a low, dangerous tone that was as close to a growl as a human voice could get, "I was wondering how we were going to find out why you attacked us with all of you dead, but this makes everything much easier." Drusilla's face split into a gleeful smile, Spike raised his eyebrows, and Lorne gave Angel a very sharp look, all of which Angel ignored. Charlie slowly lowered his gun and Tahn moved to stand next to him, her eyes fixed on the demon. Willy peered out from behind the bar, but came no closer.

"You think I would tell you anything?" said the demon with an impressive amount of scorn, considering how badly wounded he already was. "I will not betray my kin."

Angel shrugged. "It's up to you. Either way, I'm going to kill you. The only question," he paused to retrieve a large shard of glass from a broken bottle at his feet, "is how long it'll take."

Before he could so much as make the first cut, however, Tahn spoke up. "It won't work," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "No matter what you do to him, he won't talk."

"Oh yeah?" said Spike, who had walked over to stand on the opposite side of the demon from Angel. He closed his fingers tightly around the demon's left forearm. A second later, a double _crack_ rent the air as both bones snapped under the pressure, causing their owner to scream in pain and Lorne, Charlie, Tahn, and Willy to wince. "Doesn't make it less fun." He grinned wickedly.

"It's just gonna be a waste of time," Tahn insisted, though she looked slightly ill. "If we were the only ones they wanted to kill, more of them would have come here. The Tuul'Hith always attack all of their targets at once, so that nobody has a chance to regroup."

"Tuul'Hith?" Angel's eyes widened in horrified recognition. "The hotel," he said. "We've got to get back." He left immediately, not waiting for any of them. Tahn, Lorne, and Spike followed, though Drusilla hung back just long enough to break the demon's neck.

Charlie remained behind. He looked around and saw that Willy had slunk into the back room, leaving him alone in the bar. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and held down the #3 button until the speed-dial activated. The person on the other end picked up after the first ring.

"This is L.A. undercover agent Charlie. We may have a situation in the form of a local demonic uprising. Minor. One species only. I need the squad to intercept and field any 911 calls that might be made from the Hyperion Hotel in the next hour. The number is 555-0162. Yes, correct, headquarters of Angel Investigations and the California-based branch of the Slayer operation. Yes, these are the demons we previously believed to be allies. No, my coworker isn't affiliated with them. In fact, we may need to take steps to ensure her safety from them. The demons are hostile and will not negotiate. Chest wounds aren't a reliable way to kill them, so aim for the head."

†

Cole was just preparing to leave the auto shop and find out what patrol route Alex had been assigned tonight when he heard a scratching sound at the back door. He went to open it, but remembered just in time that he'd already set the security system—something the Cleveland shop never had, and which he still hadn't gotten used to. He deactivated it and opened the door. To his surprise, a large wolf he recognized immediately as Oz staggered over the threshold and collapsed. The fur around his muzzle was heavily encrusted with a thick, navy blue substance, and large areas of his coat were stained with his own blood.

"Holy crap, man," said Cole as he shut the door again. "What happened?" He saw that Oz's shape was beginning to change, and he dashed over to the lockers and grabbed a spare pair of sweatpants out of his own. Oz had finished transforming by the time Cole returned. He tossed the sweatpants to Oz, who pulled them on with shaking hands. Cole was so much taller than him that he had to roll up the cuffs a couple of times, but it was better than nothing.

"The demons at the hotel attacked," he panted.

"What?" Cole gasped. "But…I thought they were on our side."

Oz shook his head. "Two of them followed me. I finally took them out, but it was close." He heaved himself up, wincing painfully as he did so, and staggered over to the large sink in the corner, where he began to wash the demon blood off his face and his own off the area around the nasty wound on his shoulder.

"Is everyone else okay?"

"No idea. Haven't seen any of them since before the attack started."

Cole noticed Oz's flattened tone of voice and caught a glimpse of his rather wooden expression. Both were such subtle differences from his typical manner that anyone who had spent less time with him would have missed them completely. "There's something else, isn't there?" he asked warily.

Oz's fingers clenched around the edge of the sink. "Willow. One of the demons did some kind of kamikaze ritual, and she disappeared."

†

Connor had serious misgivings about calling 911 due to the dead demons strewn around the lobby, but he didn't have much of a choice. Tobias's wound was far beyond anything his first aid skills could manage, Renée was still bleeding heavily, and Xander looked like he might be concussed (though he, like Giles, had regained consciousness), and their well-being mattered much more than discretion. However, when the paramedics arrived minutes later, Connor was astonished to see them navigate their way around the inhuman corpses towards their patients as if they did this every day.

The paramedic who seemed to be in charge of the rest approached Connor with a very serious and purposeful expression on his face. "Are you the one who called, young man?"

Connor nodded.

"It's a good thing you did. Looks like you folks got mixed up in some pretty nasty business," he said. He held up a clipboard. "I just want to make sure we're all clear what happened."

"Okay," said Connor, bracing himself.

"Armed robbery, I believe? The perpetrators all fled the scene, and nobody was able to identify them?" He looked at Connor in a very pointed way as he said it.

Connor gaped at him for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "It happened just like that."

The man nodded briskly and walked off without another word.

†

Angel reached the hotel in record time, and was rewarded for his haste by the panic-augmenting sight of several ambulances parked outside it. He barely had the presence of mind to put the GTX in park and take the keys out of the ignition before he sprang out of it and ran towards the doors. He reached them just as several paramedics emerged, carrying Tobias out on a stretcher. Inside, he saw Xander being helped onto another one while Renée hovered fretfully next to him, one of her arms in bandages.

Connor stood to the side of everything and seemed to be stubbornly refusing to let anyone examine him for injuries, even though he was clearly not unscathed. Angel headed straight for him. "What happened?" he asked urgently.

"The demons attacked," said Connor.

"Is everyone okay? Where's Buffy?"

"Xander might have a concussion, Tobias was stabbed in the back, and they want to take a look at Giles just in case, but I haven't seen Buffy since before the fight."

Just then, Angel felt something tugging at his hand, and he looked around to find a trembling Livvy standing there. Flecks and smears of blood covered her skin and clothes, and not all of it was dark blue. "What's wrong?" he asked her, crouching down so he would be at eye-level with her.

Tears welled in her wide blue eyes and ran down the tracks already made in the blood on her face. "Buffy and Dana got hurt," she said in a tiny voice. "I couldn't wake them up."

Dread swooped over Angel on top of the already considerable panic he felt and, for a moment, he was paralyzed as one horrible scenario after another flashed through his imagination.

"Where are they?" he heard Connor ask as though from a great distance.

"In the basement," said Livvy.

†

Angel burst through the basement door and tore down the stairs so fast that he almost slipped in the blood that had pooled on several of the steps. He reached Buffy seconds later and scooped her into his arms. For a second, he nearly lost his head when he didn't hear her heart beating and her body felt the same temperature as his, but then the frantic pulsing of his own blood in his ears reminded him that he was human now, so the former was normal and the latter was definitely a good thing.

When he was halfway back up the stairs (past Connor, who had just dropped his hands from Dana's wrist and neck, his expression somber), he felt Buffy stir slightly against him. He looked down at her and saw that her eyes were open but unfocused. "Buffy!" he cried, his grip on her tightening slightly in relief.

"Angel?" she murmured faintly. Her face contorted into a grimace of pain that tore at his heart.

"I'm here," he said, his voice cracking. "I've got you."

"Angel, I think…I think something's wrong," she said, her hands moving to cover her stomach.

"No," he said firmly. "You're going to be fine. Both of you. Just hang on."

He had reached the paramedics in the lobby. He laid her carefully on an empty stretcher while they gathered around, and kept a tight grip on her hand as they began to bear her towards one of the ambulances waiting outside. It wasn't until he was sitting next to her in the back of one that he noticed the large, glistening bloodstains on one side of his shirt—stains that had not come from him.

†

Buffy looked around at her surroundings and frowned slightly. She was sure she had not been here moments before. She was in a dense forest, standing on a branch of one of the many enormously tall trees. She had to be at least a hundred feet off the ground, but she still could not make out the top of her tree, nor the tops of any of its neighbors. It was also difficult to identify the source of the light filtering through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. A light wind rippled through the forest, a wind that seemed oddly visible. It caused everything it touched to swirl and distort before her eyes. She felt a strange pressure in her right wrist, and ran her left thumb over the spot, but was unable to detect the source of it.

She peered over the edge of the branch on which she stood, then leapt down, landing lightly on the forest floor seconds later. For several minutes, she walked aimlessly between the trees. She had the vague sense that there was something she needed to find here. Something important.

Her hands flew suddenly to her middle. It was flat. Empty. Fear and confusion and a sense that something was horribly wrong welled up inside her, and she was able to think more clearly because of them. She looked around at the forest again with renewed focus, squinting through the billowing wind. She was becoming increasingly certain that she'd been here before. No sooner had she made up her mind on the subject than a voice spoke behind her, and she spun around.

"Yes, Slayer, you have indeed been here before."

Buffy smiled. The speaker was the white tiger spirit guide, and she was pleased to see the magnificent creature again. But then she noticed the much smaller figure standing beside it. It took a few seconds before Buffy realized who the young woman was; she looked so peaceful and well groomed that she had not been immediately recognizable.

"Dana?" Buffy asked. "Why are you here?"

"This is where I belong," said Dana, standing on tiptoe and reaching up to scratch the tiger behind its ears. It closed its eyes and gave an appreciative purr that rumbled like thunder. "I died in battle, and this is my Valhalla."

Buffy gaped at her, horrified. "You died?"

Dana nodded, looking completely untroubled by this fact.

"Then why didn't you just go to heaven?"

"I will, later," she said. "Mom and Dad are waiting for me."

"If you're dead and you're here, what does that mean for me?" asked Buffy hesitantly.

"You need not fear, Slayer," said the tiger. "You are still alive."

"Oh," said Buffy. "Good." She paused. "I thought I needed Willow's help to get here, though."

"That would, perhaps, make the experience sharper and less surreal," said the tiger, "but this realm is not unlike a dream, so it is unsurprising that you would gain access to it through one, provided that your sleep is deep enough."

"What do you mean?" she asked, that dreadful fear creeping up on her again. Her hands tightened over her flat stomach. "How deep? Am I in a coma?"

"Yes, but it is artificial."

She remembered the odd pressure in her wrist. "An IV?" It was all starting to come back to her. The searing pain, the demons, Dana and Livvy fighting them, stabbing one just when it was about to hurt Livvy. The last thing she could remember was Angel carrying her in his arms, his face white with a fear that his voice tried not to betray. She had to go back to him. To their unborn son. She felt a sudden fierce hatred towards this place for pretending that he did not exist. She looked around helplessly for a way out, but all she saw was the tiger, Dana, and more forest.

"You will not be able to leave until your body regains consciousness. I am sorry."

"No," she protested, tears filling her eyes, making the scenery blur even more. "I have to go back now. I can't just stay here and wait and do nothing. They _need_ me. I need _them_." She dropped down onto a large tree root and clutched her head in her hands.

†

Every part of Willow's body ached. That banishing spell the demon used on her, whatever it was, had felt like being fed through a meat-grinder. If this was anything like what other people felt whenever she brought them along with her when she teleported, she couldn't blame them for not asking her to take them places that way more often. She opened her eyes. Everything around her was a white blur. She blinked. Gradually, the whiteness resolved itself into vast, rolling sand dunes and a painfully bright midday sun. Her skin felt cold and clammy despite the oppressive dry heat.

She lay there unmoving on the hot sand for what felt like a very long time, and slowly, the aches faded into something duller and less overwhelming. She rolled onto her side and pressed the heels of her hands into the sand, preparing to push herself up into a kneeling, then hopefully a standing position. Instead, she froze, hands still flat against the rough grains. Something like a wave or surge of energy had just rolled beneath her, seeming to strain at the earth from just below its surface. She waited, and it happened again. Goosebumps rose on her skin and fear clenched in her stomach. The only time she'd ever felt anything like this was at the Obelisk of Theodosius back when she and Oz went to Istanbul for their honeymoon, but the feeling was much stronger now.

Every instinct told her to get as far away from the strange pulses of energy as possible, but she resisted, digging her hands deeply into the sand, determined to at least feel out the source before she went running for safety. It was completely unfamiliar, but more powerful than anything she had ever encountered. Her impression was not of something evil, necessarily, though it was certainly neither good nor benign. More than anything, it felt ancient, alien, and, somehow, ominously inevitable.

She dug deeper even though it set her teeth on edge, then stood up and turned to face the north. It took longer than usual—the aftereffects of the demon's spell had left her magic a little scrambled and depleted—but she had soon vanished in a burst of light, determined to trace the strange power to its point of origin.

†

Angel could think of few things he despised more than hospital waiting rooms. Not fully conscious of anything except the distinct absence of doctors with information about his wife, he had only vaguely been aware of what the others were doing. At first, it had only been himself, Connor, and Renée in the waiting room, but that hadn't lasted long. Tahn had come in at one point (not very successfully hiding her lavender skin, tail, and strange, flashing eyes with a long, high-collared coat, a baseball cap, sunglasses, and gloves), frantic for news about Tobias. She had been taken to his room and had not come back.

Over the course of the next hour or two, Giles and then Xander had wandered back from wherever they had been kept for observation, the former perfectly healthy, though exhausted, and the latter clutching an ice pack to the side of his head. Dawn had arrived with Hank and thrown herself into Connor's arms the second she saw he was okay, then turned to Angel and demanded to know what was wrong with her sister, a demand he had not been able to answer satisfactorily, as much to his own chagrin as hers. Apart from that, they all spoke only rarely to each other, and when they did, it was in whispers. The uncertainty was thick and oppressive, smothering all desire for conversation.

At long last, Dr. Benson appeared. Angel rose to his feet at once and walked towards him. His insides seemed to drop in temperature with every step he took, so that by the time he stood in front of the doctor and was looking into his grave face, they had frozen solid.

"Buffy?" he asked. His mouth was so dry that the word came out in a croak.

"Stable," said Dr. Benson. "And improving rapidly."

Angel felt, rather than heard, the collective sigh of relief from the room's other occupants. A considerable portion of his own fear had been allayed as well, but just as much remained. "And—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "And the baby?"

Dr. Benson's face crumpled. "I'm sorry."

†

"How did this happen?" Angel asked hollowly. He heard a muffled sob coming from the side of the room where he knew Dawn was sitting, and he could feel the eyes of all of the others on him. Part of him wished they would go away. "We were just in here last week, and he—they were both fine." He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. Or a memory. How many miscarriages had his own mother had in the years between his birth and Kathy's? And that wasn't even counting his two stillborn brothers and his sister who died less than a month after her birth. He never thought he would have to worry about things like that in two thousand and five.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Gallagher," said Dr. Benson somberly. "The initial complications appear to have been caused by abdominal adhesions from old scar tissue, and it escalated from there when she was attacked. Are you aware of any serious injuries she has received in the past?"

"With what she does, injuries are pretty much all in a day's work, but she's, uh, she's been taking it easy ever since we found out about the baby." Angel looked away and wiped his face with his hands. He felt like he would fall through the floor any second. It was all he could do to keep talking.

"She's works as a stunt double and martial arts instructor, correct?"

"Yeah." He had a sudden flashback to how they had laughed when they picked out her fake professions to put on the forms, and how it had led to speculation about whether they could eventually become her real ones. The second one had appealed to her most, and it had been a nice idea, the two of them running a martial arts studio together, teaching their own children along with the rest of the students.

"Did she ever see a doctor after sustaining one of these injuries?"

Angel's combined flashback and domestic fantasy imploded. "Only one time that I know of. I carried her in myself. But she hates hospitals. She's a fast healer, and she's tough. We never knew something like this could happen."

"What did you bring her in for? Was it internal?"

"No." He swallowed convulsively. "It was a neck injury. Puncture wounds."

"That would explain why none of this was on her records. If we'd known about the scar tissue sooner, we could have taken precautions."

"Why did it happen now? Why didn't we see it coming?"

"Has anything particularly stressful come up in your lives since you were here?"

Angel's frozen insides clenched. The prophecy. If the mere thought of it had made him feel almost physically ill ever since Giles first informed them of it, then how much worse had it been for Buffy? Her life hadn't exactly been stress-free since she was fifteen, but she'd never known the stress of a parent before, and as he vividly remembered from everything that had happened with Connor, that kind was at least ten times more intense for him than stress over anything that only concerned himself.

"Yeah," he said in a defeated voice. It was as if he had believed he could force this not to be real if there wasn't a reasonable explanation for it.

"Then that's probably what set it off."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"We managed to stabilize her fairly quickly, so she's in no danger, but that doesn't mean she'll be all right."

"What do you mean?"

"Your wife just suffered a miscarriage. The emotional trauma is almost always worse than the physical in cases like this, particularly when it occurs this far into the pregnancy. The next few months are going to be hard on her. I'm not saying they won't be for you as well, of course, but she's the one who was carrying that life inside her. It always hurts to lose someone we love, but that baby was still literally a part of her. To lose that so suddenly…she's going to need all the support, love, and patience you can give her."

"Can I see her?" he asked quietly.

"Of course."

†

When Willow rematerialized in a beautiful, green, hilly portion of southwest England, the force of the sinister power rolling through the earth this close to its source nearly knocked her off her feet. Every step forward was a struggle not unlike trying to force the same poles of two strong magnets together. What had the Coven made of this? It was practically right on top of them. Why hadn't they contacted her? Was it such a recent phenomenon that they hadn't had time, or had something worse happened to them?

These troubled musings were interrupted when a very familiar voice tugged at her thoughts.

_Willow!_

_ Oz!_ she cried mentally. For the first time since she had noticed that otherworldly energy pulsing under the ground, she remembered that the two of them had been fighting for their lives the last time she saw him.

_You're alive. _Even his thoughts seemed to weep with relief.

_The demons! Are you okay? What happened after they used that banishing spell on me?_ She felt immensely grateful that distance didn't seem to be much of a factor in this form of communication between them.

_ It was pretty close, but I managed to get away. They attacked everyone else, too, but I don't know how bad it got. I'm on my way to the hospital. Where are you?_

_ The Cotswolds._

_ In England? The spell sent you there?_ He sounded bewildered now.

_ No, it sent me to the Sahara Desert. Now I'm on the trail of something else. It's big, Oz. I've never felt anything like this. You've got to tell the others when you get to them._

_Will do._

With that, Willow struggled forward towards her destination.

†

Angel was glad to see that, apart from some light bruising around her neck, Buffy bore no sign of physical damage. But the place where their child should have been was flat underneath the hospital gown and the blanket—not quite back to its former dimensions, but flat enough that there was no escaping the reality of what they had lost.

The wait until she came to was difficult; it left him all alone with the proof that their child was gone. It felt like being dead again, and under a curse just as terrible as the one that had imperfectly restored his soul. Would he never be allowed to raise his children? First, Connor had been stolen from him so early on that he hadn't even gotten to see him roll over, sit up, or crawl for the first time, and now, his second son would never even be born. The only comfort he had was the knowledge that this son, at least, had not been spirited away into a hell dimension, and would never know the agony of such a place. Angel wondered who would take care of that tiny soul now. Kathy? Buffy's mother? His parents?

How could it be that only hours separated this agonizing grief from the indescribable joy he and Buffy had shared when she had held his hands against her stomach so that he could feel that precious life move beneath his palm? His throat burned and tears fell onto the bedclothes next to where his hand covered hers.

It was about ten minutes before Buffy's eyes fluttered open. When they found his, he could see that she already knew. He was glad; it meant he didn't have to find the words to tell her. She closed her eyes again, tears streaming down her cheeks, and turned her head away.

†

When Angel returned to the waiting room, it was to find that Oz, Lorne (wearing a disguise similar to Tahn's), Spike, and Drusilla had joined the group during his absence, apparently only in the last minute or so. The latter two were creating a predictable amount of confused alarm in everyone else present—except for Hank, who was staring in some bewilderment at Lorne, and Connor, who had placed himself protectively in between Dawn and the two vampires, and was now shooting Angel a look that silently asked for instructions.

Angel met Connor's eyes and shook his head very slightly, then said, after redirecting his gaze towards his in-laws, "She asked to see you." She had not, in fact; she hadn't spoken a single word, but it was the only way he could think of to get Hank out of the crossfire that was sure to ensue.

Dawn and Hank got up immediately and headed for the doors through which Angel had just returned, Dawn casting an uncertain glance over her shoulder from Spike to Drusilla and back again before she disappeared through them.

"What are you doing here?" Angel asked testily now that Hank was out of earshot, speaking mostly to Spike. "Can't whatever you came back for wait until later?"

"Nope. We planned it specially so that we'd be here just in time to get mixed up in your family drama," said Spike mockingly.

Angel saw red. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have so much as acknowledged such a remark with a scowl, but these were not normal circumstances. He flew at Spike, wanting to pummel him to within an inch of his pathetic unlife and beyond. Until his own fists were torn and bloody and he could no longer lift his arms. Spike's face transformed and he started forward too, but arms closed around both of their chests before they could get any closer, forcing them apart. Angel fought against Xander's and Giles's grips, but to no avail. Spike struggled to throw Oz and Connor off until Drusilla laid one white, slender hand on his shoulder.

"Now, now, I'll have to hurt you if you start fighting again," she warned softly, though she grinned at the prospect. "Let him go, little brother," she added to Connor, who looked rather disturbed, "he'll not hurt our dear Daddy just now."

Warily, Connor released Spike (partly because he was keen to put more space between himself and Drusilla), and Oz followed suit. Giles and Xander did likewise with Angel. The two of them continued to glare fiercely, but did not lunge at each other again.

"Uh, not to sound like I'm trying to justify my longstanding unpopular anti-vampire prejudice," said Xander, cutting through the nasty tension, "but, does he seem kind of not-soul-having to everyone else?"

"Yes, I'd have to say he does," said Giles stiffly.

"So! No soul and no chip." Xander clapped his hands and looked around at the others. "Please tell me we won't be keeping him and his on-again off-again girlfriend alive this time."

"Do you think I wanted to come back, you stupid sod?" said Spike scathingly. "I was happy to be shot of the lot of you, but we're all about to have a common enemy here, and that changes the rules." He looked at Angel. "We were trying to tell you at the club, before we got jumped by the Blue Man Group."

"You weren't coming to warn us about the demons?" said Angel.

Spike made a derisive noise. "You people must have really lowered your standards if they're what counts as apocalyptic these days. We didn't know anything about those demons before tonight."

"They must be here about what Willow's tracking," said Oz.

"It's what I saw when Drusilla sang," said Lorne.

"What is it?" asked Renée, moving closer to the others so that she could clasp hands with Xander.

†

With difficulty, Willow had made it to the crest of a forested hill swathed in tendrils of morning mist. After making contact with Oz, she had tried to reach a few of the Coven members, but none of them responded. All in all, everything boded extremely ill.

She looked down the gentle slope and saw that one of the particularly gnarled ancient trees had a wide opening in its thick trunk. She halted. Just then, some kind of shockwave, different from the pulses she had been tracking, shot through the earth, and all sense of the strange power vanished. A faint reddish glow appeared at the heart of the gap in the tree's trunk and began to grow brighter. Inexplicable dread filled Willow as she watched it, spreading throughout her entire body as though someone had distilled molten panic and injected it into her. She turned tail and ran, ran as hard and fast as she had ever run in her life.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw that the red glow had engulfed the entire tree, right up to the very ends of the outermost branches and leaves. And then, the whole thing shattered, sending tiny glowing shards of tree flying like shrapnel in every direction. Willow yelled and threw herself onto the ground to avoid becoming a splinter pincushion. Once they had passed harmlessly overhead, she scrambled back to her feet and kept running, still looking over her shoulder. Now, the ground where the tree had stood began to sink. It was like watching a whirlpool forming in solid earth. With a rumbling, roaring sound that almost deafened her, it expanded, swallowing the surrounding trees as it grew wider and wider, passing the point where she had been standing just a moment ago.

From the center of this swirling vortex of earth, a new light appeared. Rather than spreading and illuminating the entire hillside as normal light of that level of brightness would do, it seemed to be building within itself, becoming more concentrated, shrinking down into a tiny, blinding speck. There was a pause, and then it exploded, sending a pillar of light thousands of feet into the sky, piercing through the darkening clouds like a sword. Willow's desire to get as far away from this place as possible finally overcoming the last of her horrified curiosity, she teleported out.

†

"The Old Ones," said Lorne. "All of them."

* * *

Heh. So, remember that "resurrected Old One" plotline way back in episode nine? Yeah, I was totally bluffing. It didn't really get the short straw. It's just been lying in wait since then. If you go back and look at everything Drusilla has been ranting about since the beginning of the season, it might make a little more sense to you now. Now then, there were some other things in this episode. Buffy's miscarriage. I did as much research as I could to make sure there was a plausible medical reason for that to happen so late in her term. If you think about all of the times she took a stab wound to the abdomen throughout the series (including seasons one through five, because if the bite scar from Graduation Day survived Buffy's resurrection and is still there in the comics, then anything else is fair game too), you have to admit that there might be some kind of lasting damage. Slayer healing would get her functional again as quickly as possible, but it might be sloppy around the organs that aren't so useful in combat. Now then. I cannot tell you how much fun it is to throw Spike and Drusilla back into the mix. Particularly now that Angel's human, because that upsets the long-established status quo rather a lot. Oh, yeah, and Charlie is an undercover agent working for that same government division thing that Graham was in way back in episode three, and which did the cleanup of the L.A. battle in episode one. *grin* It's all coming together. Oh, and hello again, big kitty! How I have missed you. Big kitty's realm seemed like a fitting place to be Dana's "Valhalla", even if she doesn't plan to stay indefinitely, since she was so deeply engrained in all things Slayer-y. Until next time!

P.S. I actually drew Renée the other day (I didn't really try to make her face look like Angel Coulby's, but oh well). The drawing is set back in "Season 8", just after she and Xander have given each other the Jayne hats for Christmas. Or possibly later in the year, since they aren't really dressed for December weather in Ohio. Either way, it's before she got the scar on her face: http:/ Taaroko. deviantart. com/art/Xander-and-Renee-186974098 (take out the spaces). And you'll find some new Buffy/Angel art in there as well, if you look around my gallery a bit.


	18. 9x18: Truth Seen Too Late

Episode 18: Truth Seen Too Late

Guest Starring: Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Olivia Williams as Althenea,

John Frances Daley as Leonard,

Rachel Hurd-Wood as Nyx,

Morena Baccarin as Sophia,

and

Alan Tudyk as Demetri

†

Westbury

It was taking Willow a great deal of effort not to throw up. All that had happened to her in the last couple of hours had taken a serious toll, and to add what she had just seen and all of her fears to that put her very near the end of her rope. Only the thought of what she had to do kept her going.

The little house looked perfectly intact, which eased a very small portion of her worry. She walked up the path as quickly as she could on her trembling legs and knocked on the door. It opened seconds later.

"Willow! What a surprise!"

"Althenea!" said Willow. "You're okay." She staggered and seized the doorframe for support.

"Of course I am. But you most certainly are not. Come in." She moved closer so that she could help Willow across the threshold and into the sitting room, where she sank gratefully onto the sofa. "Would you like some tea?"

"No!" said Willow, shaking herself mentally and fighting against the bone-deep exhaustion trying to claim her. "There's no time. Don't you know what's happening? Doesn't the Coven know?"

Althenea frowned. "Know what, dear?"

"What just happened in the Cotswolds!" said Willow. "You aren't seriously telling me none of you sensed _anything_. I could feel it as far away as the _Sahara Desert_, but you couldn't when it was right in your own backyard?" Althenea continued to look confused, as well as a little affronted by her confrontational manner, and Willow was about to keep going when she realized that she couldn't feel anything either. "Someone did a cloaking spell so that we wouldn't see this coming," she said, more to herself than to Althenea.

†

Los Angeles

The waiting room was completely silent as they all stared at Lorne in uncomprehending horror. After a few seconds, a sudden noise made everyone jump and look around at Giles, who had been polishing his glasses with such force that he had accidentally caused them to snap in two.

"What do we do?" asked Xander. "How do we stop it?"

"We can't stop it," said Lorne. "It's too late."

"That can't be," said Giles. "There must be some way to—" But he trailed off, distracted by a news report playing on the waiting room TV.

"—Bizarre weather phenomenon in the Cotswolds in England, right above what appears to be a massive sinkhole that collapsed earlier today. Experts believe it to be a result of the lightning storm, which ignited a pocket of natural gas that surfaced when the sinkhole appeared, producing the brilliant light display." The screen showed the area in question. There certainly was a great deal of lightning, as well as a giant sinkhole in the middle of the forest, but nothing seemed to be particularly mystical about it.

"So it's a natural disaster," said Xander. "That doesn't necessarily mean Old Ones, right?"

Drusilla laughed, and they all looked at her. She was holding her head at a very odd angle, her hands at her temples. But most unnerving was the utter terror on her face as she stared at the TV screen. "They'll never see them with those eyes. Eyes of hope are for seeing what you wish to see. Only eyes of fear will do for seeing what's real."

The sense of trepidation in the room was almost tangible when they turned to look at the screen again, more closely this time. As one, they all recoiled.

"I liked it better when I couldnae see them," said Renée in a small, high-pitched voice, clutching Xander's arm more tightly. For the brief moment that she had been looking at the host of creatures pouring out of the ground on the screen, she had been filled with a blind, irrational panic. She had no idea why, unless it was just the sheer, mindboggling _wrongness_ of those creatures. The least bizarre looked like monster versions of giant prehistoric crustaceans. Some seemed to be little more than huge, pulsing masses of tentacles and gaping mouths full of razor-sharp teeth. As soon as she had stopped looking, the bulk of that sanity-destroying panic left her, but she now felt rather queasy and as though many-legged skittering things had been crawling all over her skin.

"I think we all did," said Oz.

Connor turned the TV off, shuddering.

"How many are there?" asked Giles.

"Thousands. At least," said Lorne. "I hesitate to go to millions, but more because I'd wet myself if I did than because I think it isn't likely."

"If you knew this before now, why didn't you tell us then? I don't think dramatic timing has ever been less worth it," said Xander heatedly.

"It's too late by _months_," said Spike. "Maybe longer."

"What do you mean?"

"The signs were written in the stars," said Drusilla. "They did try to warn you all. Singing and dancing, they were, and screaming in fright. Nightmares and couplets." She gave a mad laugh and began to sing (which caused Lorne to grimace and clutch at his head):

"'At the heart of the world lies something old and rotten.  
Secrets that were too well kept and then forgotten.  
What comes up in the pail when the water's gone dry?  
Who will look inside if not the boy who cannot lie?'

"Don't you see?" she asked, and now her laughter sounded more like sobs. "Just because you don't know what it means doesn't mean it doesn't have meaning."

Angel stared at her, his eyes wide. His heart was pounding wildly, though he felt strangely lightheaded. Spike watched him with his eyes narrowed.

"Okay, this is nice," said Xander impatiently, "but I think we should focus on _stopping_ them now, before they can do any serious damage."

"He's right," said Angel, though his expression was still a little blank. "Right out of the coffin, the first thing on Illyria's mind was world domination, but she didn't have the firepower to pull it off. Doesn't look like that's going to be a problem for these guys."

"We should go to the Archive," said Giles, slowly tearing his eyes away from Angel. "There's quite an extensive section on the Old Ones on the main level. We can start there."

"What about Buffy?" asked Renée.

"I'll stay," said Angel. "And Hank and Dawn are here too. Call if you need more help with the research."

"Of course," said Giles.

"Connor, Renée?" said Angel, a sudden thought occurring to him.

"Yeah?" said Connor. Renée turned back to look at him too.

"Don't let those two out of your sight," he said, nodding in the direction of Spike and Drusilla.

"What's wrong, Angel," said Spike, "don't you trust me?"

"No," said Angel flatly, "but I also wouldn't put it past one of the dozens of Slayers living at the hotel to stake you before—or after—they know you don't pose an actual threat."

†

London

"Come on, Nicky, come on—that's my boy!" said Faith, beaming. She tickled Nicky on his stomach, and he squirmed and gurgled, a huge toothless smile on his face. "Tell me you got that one," she added, looking around at Robin.

"I got it," he said. He turned the video camera around and played back the footage of Nicky rolling onto his back for the first time for her.

"Doesn't he just have the cutest smile you've ever seen?" she sighed, running her fingers gently through the tuft of soft curls on Nicky's head.

"Oh, I've seen one or two that can compete," said Robin, grinning.

"I think your daddy's trying to flirt with me, little man," she said, scooping Nicky up so that she could bounce him on her knee, which caused him to wave his chubby little fists around, an expression of stunned excitement on his face. "What do you think; should I let him get away with it?"

Nicky squealed happily and put his fingers in his mouth.

"Good enough for me," said Robin, moving closer so he could kiss Faith on the cheek. No sooner had she turned her head to kiss him back properly than there came a loud noise from outside. They broke apart and exchanged a look of confusion.

"What is that, an air raid siren?" asked Faith. She stood up, holding Nicky close. Robin stood too and walked over to the window.

"I can't see what's causing it," he said. "Unless it's the storm. But it's not like thunder and lightning are unusual."

"Do you think it's a test, or something?" Even if it was, Faith didn't like it at all. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She hugged Nicky more closely to her. She was about to join Robin at the window when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get it," said Robin, hurrying back past her to reach the door first. Depending on her mood, Faith would normally have been either annoyed or amused by this sort of overprotective display, but at the moment it didn't occur to her to be anything but grateful for it. The door opened to reveal a petite, exotic-looking woman and a stocky blond man with four long parallel scars across his face like claw marks.

"Good," said the woman. "This is the right address."

"The right address for what?" said Faith. "Staking on arrival?"

"Vampires?" asked Robin.

"Yep."

"My name is Sophia and this is Demetri," said the woman calmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Can't really say the same. You see, we have a strict policy against undead houseguests," said Robin. "Especially ones that used to be in charge of the Slayer blood blackmarket."

"If you knew what was making the sirens go off, you might revise that policy," said Demetri.

"Then I guess you should tell us what's making the sirens go off so we can find out," said Faith.

"The Old Ones just busted out," said Demetri.

"You mean the demons that originally ruled this dimension?" said Wood, eyes widening in alarm.

"They're out there now," said Sophia, "but you can't see them unless you're trying to, although I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why?" asked Faith.

"Because you could go mad," said Demetri, arching one eyebrow.

"Why did you come here?"

"Because unless someone can do something, they're going to take this world back," said Sophia. "Reality as we know it will be rent to pieces, order will be destroyed, and insanity will reign, and that won't be any more fun for us than for you." She gave an ironic smile. "The only ones we can trust to do something to stop them are the good guys."

"Come in," said Faith.

"What?" Robin protested.

"I believe her," said Faith seriously. "We have to go to the Hyperion, and they can't take the shortcut if they can't get in here."

The two vampires stepped inside, and Faith began to lead the way to the kitchen and the portal in the pantry. "My, my," said Sophia, smiling at Nicky, who was staring at her, his head tucked against Faith's neck, "what a beautiful child."

"I might have invited you into my house, but hands off my kid or I'll rip 'em off," snarled Faith. For a moment, she seemed about to add a colorful insult to the end of that sentence, but with a glance at her son, she bit her tongue and refrained.

"Please," said Sophia, rolling her eyes. "I'm not stupid enough to harm a Slayer's baby, whether or not I'm attempting to garner favor."

"You were stupid enough to kidnap a bunch of Slayers so you could sell their blood," Faith shot back. "So don't be too surprised when I don't hire you to babysit."

Demetri smirked. "I like her," he said, cocking his head to the side and looked Faith up and down.

Faith raised her eyebrows scornfully and held up her left hand, both to make her wedding ring clearly visible and so that she could flip him off (after making sure Nicky wasn't looking). At the same time, Robin was saying, "Hands off my wife or I'll do more than rip them off."

"He would," said Faith, throwing a rather saucy grin his way. "Besides, I was never the Slayer who had a thing for vampires."

†

Cleveland

Vi frowned sleepily. It wasn't even dawn yet, but there was someone hammering on the door of the Academy. Having fallen asleep on the ground floor while studying, her mind awhirl with the mess with Dana and Andrew, she was able to answer the door before anyone else was woken up by the noise. However, as soon as she opened it, she wished she hadn't, because a second later, a short, red-haired vampire was shoving her out of the way to get inside.

"Finally! Any longer and the sun would have been up. Nice of you not to revoke my invitation, by the way."

"Nyx," Vi acknowledged stonily.

The Slayer-turned-vampire cast a dismissive glance at Vi. "Where's your general? I don't deal with lackeys."

"Buffy's been in L.A. for almost a year, and I'm in charge here now," said Vi coldly.

"My apologies," sneered Nyx.

"What do you want?" asked Vi, annoyed.

"I want to trade in my black hat for a white one," said Nyx brightly.

"Why, is the world ending?"

"'Reclaimed' would be a more accurate term."

†

Los Angeles

"What happened here?" Anne asked a little anxiously upon crossing the threshold into the hotel with Gunn, intent on asking Angel for help with some vampire trouble springing up near the teen shelter, only to find the lobby smeared with navy blue bloodstains and deserted except for one Watcher-in-training, Leonard, who was gathering up the books that had been left out. Gunn and Anne walked over to the counter, where Gunn dropped the crossbow he'd been carrying.

"So you both missed it too, huh?" said Leo in an unusually grim tone.

"Missed what?" said Gunn.

"The demons on the fifth floor turned out to be an evil cult that was after the Gallaghers' baby because of a prophecy. Or maybe the Woods' baby. It seems like they were here all this time to try and find out which one was their target. During the fight against them, one of the Slayers was killed, and Mrs. Gallagher started to have a miscarriage. Mr. Giles called from the hospital to let us know about an hour ago."

Anne's expression turned to one of shock and dismay. "Oh my God, Buffy. I-is she okay? Did the baby—"

Leonard shook his head somberly, and Anne covered her face in her hands.

"Which Slayer died?" asked Gunn, putting a comforting arm around Anne. He could only imagine what Angel and Buffy must be going through.

"Dana."

"You mean the crazy one that Andrew kid took off Angel's hands last year?" said Gunn, surprised.

"Yeah," said Leonard. "And Andrew's dead too. The demons killed him first."

Gunn swore under his breath. "I wish I hadn't missed the fight."

"Oh, believe me, Charlie-boy, this is just the intermission," said a voice from the door. "You'll get your piece of a battle yet."

Gunn turned around to look at the familiar bleach blond vampire framed in the doorway, flanked by Connor, several members of Buffy's crew, and a pale, willowy woman with dark, glossy hair and a long red and black dress. Beside Gunn, Anne let out a cry of alarm and lunged for the crossbow he had left on the counter. A second later, Spike yelled when a bolt went flying directly at his chest, but before it could get within a yard of him, Connor's hand shot out and snatched it out of the air.

"You call this a bloody truce?" shouted Spike, demonic features to the fore.

Everyone stared from Anne to Spike. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Why is he here? What truce? Why isn't he dust?"

"The same question I've been asking myself for five years," muttered Xander.

"Annie, what—" began Gunn, confused, but Spike interrupted, his face splitting into a fanged grin of recognition.

"Oh, yeah, you're that idiot vampire-worshiping bint I took a bite out of back in Sunnyhell. God, it's been forever, hasn't it?"

"Say _what_, now?" asked Gunn in a low voice, his lip curling. So Spike was the one who'd left that scar on Anne's neck. He could feel her trembling next to him even as she glared daggers at Spike.

"Yes, l-let's all calm down," said Giles. "We have a great deal of work to do."

As if Giles hadn't spoken, Spike continued to leer at Anne for a couple of seconds before responding to Gunn. "Yeah, she and her friends were all keen to be vampires. Until they actually met a few, that is. Your girlfriend now, is she?"

"Okay," said Oz, moving to stand between them, "before anyone actually gets to the death threats, I'm just gonna point out that they're not traditionally acceptable truce etiquette."

"But where's the fun if we all get along?" said Xander. Next to him, Renée looked torn between amusement and disapproval.

"Um, I'd still like to know why there's a truce," said Anne, who still hadn't taken her eyes off Spike, nor her hands off the crossbow, which she had reloaded.

"Might want to hold off on the exposition until everyone can hear it at once," came Faith's voice a second before its owner emerged from the office, Nicky in her arms, followed by Wood, Sophia, and Demetri. When Demetri and Oz saw each other, the former's lip curled and the latter's hands clenched into fists.

Mere seconds later, Vi came through the portal in the office too, accompanied by Nyx. Meanwhile, many of the Slayers and Watchers-in-training who had gone to bed were beginning to appear at the balcony landing that overlooked the lobby. Among them were Abby and Livvy, whose eyes were glued to Sophia and Demetri, wearing expressions of mingled fear and hatred.

"Right," said Giles resignedly. "This should go smoothly."

†

Alone in the waiting room, Angel sat with his head in his hands. The poem Drusilla had sung played over and over in his mind, particularly the final line. _Who will look inside if not the boy who cannot lie?_

Drogyn. Angel was sure of it. Drogyn had been the keeper of the Deeper Well, and he had killed him to gain the trust of the Circle of the Black Thorn. He had achieved his end goal: the Circle had been destroyed. As quite the unexpected bonus, he had then not only won and survived the battle, but had been granted the Shanshu, while Wolfram and Hart had lost their hold on the entire dimension.

But now the Old Ones were free. Would that have been possible if Drogyn were still alive and well? Was all of this Angel's fault? He didn't think he could handle that right on the heels of losing the baby. At some point, he was going to have to go back to Buffy's room and tell her about the Old Ones, but he couldn't bring himself to do that yet. For one thing, she had a lot of healing to do, but if she knew about this, she would feel like she had to rush out and fight them. For another, it seemed cruel to force her to shelve her grief so quickly in order to give priority to something so much bigger and worse.

"That's a look I've seen before," came a familiar voice from the chair beside his. "Usually meant I was about to get a promotion or a bonus."

"What are you doing here, Lindsey?" said Angel without interest, not even sparing a glance for the man suddenly filling the chair next to his. "Lorne not do his job, back from the dead, or just won the coin toss with Lilah to see which one gets to be Wolfram and Hart's errand boy from hell?"

"None of the above. Lorne did his job, I'm still dead, and thanks to you and your little impromptu army of the indebted, Wolfram and Hart is shut out, and that includes all late employees. Kinda like that invitation rule you used to be subject to."

"Yeah, well, in case they were wondering," said Angel, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, "they're not invited."

Lindsey laughed. "You did something they didn't see coming and they got a little sloppy with their improvising, put all their eggs in one basket, and lost it all. Only reason I can drop by for a visit is that I broke my contract when I was alive. Not usually something they forgive, but this time they needed a delegate who _wasn't_ tied to them, which made me convenient. Besides, I wasn't gonna pass up the chance for this reunion. But since I'm doing this pro bono, I don't really feel like operating by their timetables."

"So, what, you want to have a nice, soulful chat first, that it?"

"Why'd you turn on me, Angel?"

There was a long pause. "I didn't know I'd make it out of that fight," said Angel. Like Lindsey, he adopted a much more serious tone for this turn of subject. "It was war, and I wasn't going to leave you to be someone else's problem. Plus, you had a nasty habit of stabbing me in the back or worse at inconvenient moments. I wasn't interested in letting that happen again."

Lindsey chuckled. "You know, I always thought of you as my nemesis, and that the only way it was gonna end would be with one of us killing the other in a big showdown. And, to be honest, my money was actually on you most of the time. You were my worst enemy. I sold my soul for the power to beat you, planned for months, even made it look like Spike had a shot at your destiny…but I was still never anything more than a thorn in your side, huh? Not even important enough to be worth killing in person. I guess I should be honored that I at least made your list of threats to eliminate before you die."

"What did they send you for?"

"To make you an offer. You might have noticed that the Old Ones don't have much of a fan club these days. Nobody wants them to be back—not your side, not mine. Not even insane soulless vampires want what they're selling."

"Wolfram and Hart seemed pretty pro-Old Ones when they helped pop Illyria out of her box and into my friend," said Angel. "So why should this be any different?"

"Illyria's return was prophesied. As you might have noticed, Wolfram and Hart isn't in the business of thwarting prophecy—that can't be done—; they're in the business of making prophecies work for them. They figured if Illyria came back in a more…_manageable_ form, they'd be able to control her."

"Yeah, nice job on that."

"But those things out there? They're in their original forms. They can't be fought or controlled. Hell, just looking at them brings on the crazies. If your side wants to take them down, you'll need my side's help. Trouble is, we can't do much when we're locked out of the house."

"Does Wolfram and Hart really expect me to buy that their only motive is to help get rid of the Old Ones?"

"Come on, if they thought you were that stupid, they never would have wasted so many resources trying to get you on their team. They do want the Old Ones gone, but they also want to get their foot back in the door."

"Never gonna happen."

"That's what I figured. So, how's that Shanshu been working out for you? Just a regular guy, married to the love of your life, back to running your detective agency. Sounds like a dream come true. I'm just wondering; did you get it because you saved the world or because you destroyed it? The Black Thorn, Wolfram and Hart—evil as they were, what if they were just holding back the tide of something worse? And even if they weren't, you still killed the guy whose actual job was keeping the Old Ones in their tomb."

"Where did everybody go?"

Angel jumped and looked around. Lindsey was nowhere to be seen, but Dawn was standing in front of him. Behind her, Hank appeared, pushing Buffy in a wheelchair.

"Back to the hotel," said Angel. He looked at Buffy. "They're letting you check out already?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes on the floor. "There's nothing else they need to do, and they said I'm in no danger, so there's no reason I have to stay."

"She'll just have to take some antibiotics and stuff for a couple of weeks," said Dawn quietly. Her eyes were rather red and puffy.

Hank cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. "I have work in a couple of hours, but if you need anything, just call."

"Thanks," said Buffy.

Hank bent down to kiss her on the top of her head and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, then Angel took his place behind her wheelchair and let Dawn lead the way out to the car. During the drive to the hotel, he told them about the Old Ones and that the others were already researching ways to fight them.

†

When Angel, Buffy, and Dawn arrived, it was to find that the vast research party (which included the inhabitants of the Hyperion and the Academy, plus the five vampires who had joined forces with them) was already well underway. Buffy (who had only been in the wheelchair because it was hospital policy) made a beeline for Giles, who was standing behind the counter and deep in discussion with Triennia about which sections of the Archive she thought would yield the best results. When he saw Buffy, he broke off mid-sentence.

"How are you?" he asked gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Isn't this a bit soon for you to be up and about?"

"Slayer healing," said Buffy tonelessly, not looking at him. "I'm okay enough to walk around and research stuff."

"We do have quite a few people working on this already, Buffy. This shortly after experiencing something so devastating, no one would blame you if you took some time for yourself."

"Giles, please. Can you just tell me where to start reading?"

Before he could answer, there was a slight commotion behind them in the office, and Willow and several members of the Coven emerged through the portal. Oz, who had been sitting on one of the couches in the lobby, sprang up at once, sending the book on his lap flying. Willow met him halfway and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back fiercely, pressing his cheek into her hair. Once they had broken apart, Willow turned to face the group congregated behind the counter. "It was that ritual we thought we stopped in August," she said.

"Are you sure?" asked Giles, brow furrowed.

"I'm sure. I felt the same force then that I did just before they got out today. I don't think we got all of the demons that did it, because something has been blinding the Coven to all of this ever since."

"But we stopped them before they could finish their ritual," said Buffy. "How could it have worked anyway?"

"And I thought they were only trying to bring back _one_ Old One, not all of them," said Xander.

"At least it's a lead," said Willow a little bleakly.

"I would suggest that you concentrate your efforts on finding out who these demons were," said Triennia. "If you can discover that, you may gain further insights into the magic that was used to bring the Old Ones back."

"Okay, let's do that," said Buffy, and she turned and strode towards the portal.

Willow watched her with a frown, noticing the way the eyes of Giles, Xander, Dawn, and Oz all followed her until she passed out of their line of vision, at which point they all swiveled to Angel, who was staring at the ground, his expression shuttered. With the foreboding sense that she had missed something important, she went after her best friend, and when she went through the portal, she almost crashed into her. It seemed that Buffy had merely gone across and then stopped.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked Willow.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Buffy as she started to walk away down the passage.

Now that her eyes were a little better adjusted to the gloom of the underground tunnel, Willow looked at Buffy more closely. For approximately half a second, she observed Buffy's diminished waistline in confusion, but then the significance of it clicked, and she dashed forward and grabbed her shoulder. "Oh, God, you're not—what happened to the baby?" she blurted.

"I miscarried," Buffy stated, and with that, shrugged off Willow's hand and kept walking, leaving Willow to stare after her in shock. Underneath a haze of sorrow and sympathy, Willow wanted to run to her and hug her and cry with her and find out exactly how something like this could have happened in the short time since she had last been at the hotel, but she couldn't. The harsh reality was that this wasn't even close to being the worst thing in the world at the moment, and she forced herself to go the other way instead, back through the portal so that she could find out what Giles and the others had learned.

†

Even with as many participants in the research party as they had, it felt like very slow going. The section on the Old Ones in the Archive was huge—though, mercifully, most of it was in English (and when it wasn't, provided that it was still in a known human language, there was usually at least one researcher who could understand it), and nobody knew anything about the demons who had done that ritual except what they looked like.

Every half-hour or so, someone who had been keeping an eye on the news (whether from London, Cleveland, or Los Angeles) would pop in among the rest to inform them of another so-called weather phenomenon somewhere in the world. The worst was a series of catastrophic waves that was wreaking havoc across the Pacific—most likely the result of activity at the other end of the Well similar to what had happened in the Cotswolds. There were also widespread reports of unusual behavior in animals (both feral and domesticated), many of which had gone into a state of uncontrollable panic. Nothing indicated that the general public had the slightest inkling of what was causing any of this.

Angel couldn't make his eyes focus on the words on the pages in front of him. Finally, he gave up, slamming the book closed and stalking off past everyone in the lobby and up the stairs. Several people who had been using the carpeted steps as seats while they researched hastily scooted out of the way so he could pass.

Like many of the others, Faith watched his progress, but she was the only one who stood up to follow him. When she reached the foot of the grand staircase, she looked around, making sure Nicky was still sleeping soundly in Robin's arms. He was. She exchanged a grim smile with Robin and started up after Angel.

†

"The son of a Slayer's son and a Slayer," said Drusilla from the mouth of the hallway leading off from the lobby, her eyes on Nicky. "I don't like him." Connor and Renée, still diligently guarding both her and Spike, exchanged uneasy glances at this.

"He's a baby, pet," said Spike. "It's Papa and Mama Bear you want to watch out for."

"His is a double birthright of power. The blood of slain Slayers cries out to him."

"Want to get the focus back to the research?" said Connor, pointing at the books Giles had given them.

"Of course, my dear little brother," said Dru, turning and smiling at him. She stretched out a hand to touch the side of his face. He recoiled, and she frowned. "Or do I call you grandson? Or uncle?" She moaned and rubbed her temples. "Ooh, and I think I should be very confused indeed if Daddy decides to let me be his Mummy too."

With Connor and Renée sufficiently distracted by Dru's ramblings, Spike found it very easy to slip unnoticed into the office, and it wasn't much trouble getting down to the Archive after that. He passed two Slayers and a Watcher-in-training on the way, all of whom glared mistrustfully at him but didn't impede his progress. Hoping to avoid more of that, he took a book off a shelf near the entrance and pretended to be engrossed in it as he continued on down to the bottom level. He walked along, passing row after row of towering bookstacks and feeling the gazes of more Slayers and Watchers-in-training upon him. Finally, he turned into one of the narrow aisles. Halfway down it, he slowed and stopped, slotting his book unconcernedly onto the shelf next to him.

"You should put that back where it goes," said Buffy, not looking up from her own book. "Something gets misplaced in a library this big, it'll never be found."

"Nice to see you too, love."

"What do you want, Spike?"

"I want—" He broke off and reluctantly stepped back to allow a Slayer whose arms were loaded with books to pass between them on her way down the aisle. "I want to take back that bloody row we had last year," he said in a slightly lower voice once she was gone.

"And it only took the end of the world to make you show up for that."

He strained to hear anything but indifference in her tone, but failed.

Buffy closed her book and traded it for another. "You lost your soul," she observed flatly, after a long silence.

"How is it that nobody could work out I had one, but now you all know it's gone?" he said, annoyed.

"You brought Drusilla with you. Kind of an undead giveaway."

"Oh. Right."

There was another silence in which Buffy kept on reading, a small crease appearing on her forehead.

"Look, I wouldn't have gone and tried to lose it," he said. "But once it was gone, I didn't really care anymore. No chip, no conscience, and Dru fancies me better than chaos and fungus demons again. Why trade that for cold pigs' blood, suffering, and having to watch you and Angel play house for the rest of your lives?"

"Yeah. No point being a good guy if you have to put up with stuff like that."

Spike scowled. She had still neither looked at him nor altered her expression. "Soul's gone for good, though, in case you were going to try shoving it back in. Dru killed the only being capable of putting it back that way as part of her ritual to get rid of it. And if you're thinking that Red could just do Angel's curse on me, the Ritual of Restoration was tailor-made for him in a dialect that's been dead since World War II, so good luck rewriting it."

"There are probably other ways."

"Yeah. As demonstrated by the vast population of soulful vamps walking around," said Spike sardonically.

†

Faith found Angel in his and Buffy's suite, sitting on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. When she drew a little closer, she saw that the large black squares scattered across the bedspread around him were sonograms.

"Angel?" she said cautiously. No reaction. "Hey," she tried again. She moved one of the sonograms aside and sat down next to him.

"How's Buffy?" he asked quietly. His voice was very hoarse.

"Probably wishing you were with her instead of up here."

"I doubt it."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Abdominal adhesions from old scar tissue. That's…that's why she lost the baby."

"It's not like that's your fault."

"It isn't? My first assignment from the Powers was to protect her, Faith, and I failed."

"You didn't," she insisted. "If it wasn't for you—"

"I protected her so well that she died twice, had a lot of other close calls, and got hurt so many times that now it's killed our son."

"Come on, she's a Slayer. Battle wounds and death are part of the job description. That's not something you could have changed."

"Maybe if I hadn't left…"

"Then you _would_ have failed to protect her. You would have risked your evil twin getting out if you'd stayed, and you know it."

Angel didn't seem to have heard her. "And what if it's not just that?"

"What are you talking about?"

†

"What happened to the Spike who fought for his soul?"

"He was an idiot who had no idea what he was getting into," said Spike. His eyes were drawn by the sparkle of the heart-shaped diamond in the gold Claddagh she wore. "Besides, the reason he did it married the other bloke anyway."

"It didn't have to be like this, you know."

"Didn't it? If I hadn't overreacted that day and gone storming off, and never bumped into Dru? You still would've chosen Angel."

"Yeah," she said. "I still would have chosen Angel. I always would have chosen Angel. The only things that ever kept us apart were things we couldn't control. You were wrong when you said I need a little monster in my man. I don't. The man I need just happened to have a little monster in him, and the year since he turned human has been the happiest of my life."

"You don't sound too happy right now."

Buffy turned slowly and looked him directly in the eyes at last, but he would have preferred that she kept on reading, for the only emotion in them was pure, ice-cold fury. "No. I'm not happy right now. As of last night, my _son_ is never going to be born and the entire world is swarming with ancient demons that every _single_ book in here tells me I can't fight. You don't get to come up to me on the credit you earned when you had a soul to try and make up, because you're not the good man who stood up for me when no one else did and died to save the world, you're the monster who tried to rape me the last time I saw you, and this time you don't even have your little built-in shock collar. And you know what? Right now, I really couldn't care less, but if you don't get the _hell_ out of my way and let me keep looking for a way to fix this mess, I'll finish what I started when I dropped a pipe organ on you."

Jaw tightly clenched, Spike retrieved the book he'd brought with him and raised it briefly as if he were saluting her, then turned and walked off. There was another Watcher-in-training near the end of the row, and, not waiting for the boy to get out of his way, he knocked into him as he passed, sending him toppling over.

Buffy closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, then turned her attention back to her book. A minute later, she was sprinting for the stairs, the book tucked under her arm.

†

Faith watched as Angel held out his hands in front of him, flexing them and turning them over. "Humanity. My reward. But for what? Did I really do the world a favor when I took out the Black Thorn, or did I doom it? And all the other times I thought I was helping. I rescued Fred from Pylea, and she ended up getting gutted from the inside out by Illyria. I tried to save Darla, but she would have died even if Dru hadn't turned her. I tried to be Connor's father, but I couldn't stop him from getting kidnapped or growing up in hell."

He reached back and unclasped the gold chain from around his neck, pulling the rest of it out of his shirt to reveal the cross on the end, which he laid flat on his palm. "I thought this meant I was forgiven, you know? Redeemed. Free. If I'm not—if everything that's happening now is because of me, then why doesn't the cross burn? It should." He clenched his fist so tightly around the small piece of metal that it must have punctured his skin, because blood began to seep out and drip down the chain. "It should burn until there's nothing left. Now that I'm human, I can't fix what I did. I can't take it back."

"You want to take it all back, huh?" said Faith. She was suddenly on her feet in front of him, and before he could even register that she had moved, her fist collided with his face. The force of the blow knocked him sideways off the bed, and he went sprawling onto the floor. He looked up at her in bewilderment and pain, but he hadn't even begun to stand up when Faith hauled him up by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. "What about my _family_?" she shouted, her whole body shaking with anger. "You want to take that back, too?"

Angel only stared back at her, his eyes wide, not making a single move to defend himself.

"You think you've only ever brought evil to this world? I have a husband and a kid because of what you did for me. Is that evil? Do you want to undo that? And all the other people you helped? What about them, huh? Would you rather they were all dead or suffering? Don't you _dare_ say none of it was worth it!"

She lowered her voice menacingly and moved closer so that their noses were almost touching. "And if 'taking it back' means what I think it means, and you go anywhere near one of those vamps to get them to turn you because you think you're no good to us as a human, I'll put a stake in your heart before it stops beating." With a final shove, she released him, turned on her heel, and left the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that cracks appeared in the frame.

†

"I found our demons," said Buffy loudly when she reached the lobby, letting her book thud down on the counter. Giles, Dawn, Xander, Willow, and Oz all moved closer to see it at once, and the rest of the lobby went still as everyone else's attention fixed on Buffy. Faith, who was halfway back down the main staircase, froze to listen. "They're the acolytes of Siron, which is the name of the Old One they were trying to resurrect in August."

"So why did they bring back the rest of them if they only worshipped this Siron guy?" asked Xander.

"I may have the answer to that," came Sophia's voice. She moved forward to stand between Xander and Dawn (both of whom automatically shifted away from her, which she ignored) and set her book down so they could all see it. "I found this book in the section on forbidden magics. The ritual described here matches what you said you interrupted. If it's what they used, then I'm afraid the interruption may have been a mistake."

There was a momentary silence while they read the pages. It was very unpleasant reading. The ritual required all sorts of gruesome ingredients and called on the most sinister and unnatural of powers. It had multiple steps, and their ordering was very unfortunate. It was meant to resurrect Old Ones, all right, but not until the second step could a specific Old One be singled out, and then the third and final step was to summon it to the ones performing the ritual.

"Dear God," said Giles. "You're right. They only meant to bring back the one they worshipped."

"And then we jumped in guns a-blazin' and cut them off before they could get to the part of the ritual that would have narrowed down the effects," said Dawn.

"And so it snowballed instead," said Xander.

"There's nothing here about undoing it," said Willow worriedly.

"I wouldn't be too sure," said Sophia. She pointed to a line on the page. "The ritual called for the demons to spill their own blood as part of it. I'm not sure whether you're familiar with blood rituals, but normally, once the first blood is spilled—"

"The ritual is in effect until the flow of blood stops," said Buffy. They all looked at her, but her eyes were still on the book. "Yeah. We're familiar."

"We definitely missed at least a few of the demons, then," said Willow. "By only killing some of them, we added more of their blood to the ritual and made it stronger, but the flow hasn't stopped."

"So if we could just find the rest of them, it would reverse the effects?" said Xander hopefully.

"It's definitely worth a shot," said Buffy. "Can you find us these demons, Wil?"

"That won't be necessary." They all turned to see Althenea striding towards them. "The other members of the Coven and I didn't appreciate being blinded to such important goings-on by them, so we've already tracked them."

"Good," said Buffy. "Give us the locations and we'll send out the troops."

Within five minutes, the Slayers, arranged in their usual patrolling squads, had been assigned groups of the surviving demons and were preparing to be deployed to their far-spread locations by the Coven's teleportation spells, which were more complicated than Willow's method, but with no negative side effects for the passengers.

"Don't we get to go, too?" asked Demetri in his cold, sardonic voice.

"No," said Buffy flatly as she passed weapons to her fellow Slayers.

He let out an impatient growl. "We didn't join up with you people so we could cower in a hotel with our noses in books."

"Great," she said. "If you overcome your deadly allergy to sunlight in the next few minutes, let me know so I can bring you along too." She removed the Scythe from the nearly-emptied weapons cabinet and walked past him to join Megan, Clare, and Maribel (a Mexican Slayer who was relatively new to the Hyperion).

"Buffy, you can't honestly intend to go into the fight yourself," said Giles, alarmed.

"I can," she said shortly.

"You may be recovered enough for research, but for battle? You haven't been on active Slayer duty for months, never mind what just—"

"I'm going, Giles," she said.

He opened his mouth to protest again, but Faith cut him off. "Drop it," she said sharply. Buffy's surprise made her turn automatically to face Faith, who nodded gravely at her. "You need this one, B."

†

By the time Spike had calmed down enough to return to the lobby, the Coven had already sent off the dozen or so Slayer squads, leaving the place much emptier than it had been before. He found Dru walking along a ground floor corridor, one arm outstretched so that her fingernails trailed lightly along the wall.

"Oh, there you are, my Spike," she said, drifting to him and sliding her arms up around his neck. "The battle's started, but we can't go out until the sun goes down."

"Just my luck. I miss anything else?"

Drusilla grinned and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Angel wanted to let me bring Daddy back, just like I brought back Grandmum, but the dark Slayer wouldn't let him. I don't like her. She has her family, but she says I can't have mine."

"Angel was going to let you turn him?" said Spike incredulously.

"Such pretty thoughts are borne of his despair. I like this one much better than when he set me on fire, but he's only teasing. He thinks he would have done it if not for _her_, but he would have turned back on his own. Auntie's present is too precious to him even as he grieves; he doesn't want mine."

It was Drusilla's tone much more than her words that ignited the rage that had been simmering under the surface since Spike's conversation with Buffy, or perhaps much longer. Dru was distraught. For all the trouble she had gone through to get rid of his soul, she still wanted her sire. Spike left her standing there (she barely seemed to notice, as she was now giggling madly) and walked back to the lobby, past everyone still there, and up the stairs.

Wood's eyes narrowed as Spike passed. Nicky began to whimper. He rocked him and walked to the office so he wouldn't disturb everyone else, though most of the people who had remained behind were in the Archive now or back in their own rooms. After a minute or so, Nicky quieted down. Wood saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Dawn hovering at the doorway, her eyes on the baby. The last twenty-four hours had clearly taken a lot out of her, and she looked like she was about to either collapse or start crying. "Want to hold him?" he asked, smiling.

"Faith won't kill me if she finds out?" she asked nervously, but it was clear how much she wanted to.

"No," said Wood. Dawn stepped forward eagerly, and he passed Nicky to her. Nicky squirmed a little at first, but soon snuggled right up to the crook of her neck. "He likes you."

Dawn smiled, and some of the tension in her seemed to melt away.

"You want to hang on to him for a little while? There's something I've gotta do."

"Sure!" she said, her smile widening. "Just, uh, try to be back before he needs a diaper change, 'cause I have no idea how to do that," she added anxiously.

He chuckled. "No problem."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile drop as he turned away.

†

Angel splashed water on his face, wincing when he accidentally put pressure on the spot where Faith had hit him, which was already developing an ugly bruise. She may have knocked him out of that dark downward spiral, but his body ached with exhaustion. He hadn't slept since the night before last and he was really starting to feel the aftereffects of the fight against the Tuul'Hith at the Lair.

The thought of the Old Ones reminded him of the mind-shattering horror he had felt when he looked at that TV screen with the others. He was prepared to do whatever he could to defeat them, but it seemed even more like a suicide mission than facing the Black Thorn and Wolfram and Hart had, and with a lower chance of success. And the baby. God, the baby. Angel didn't understand how the grief hadn't killed him already, and Dr. Benson had said it would be even worse for Buffy. That was perhaps the least bearable part. He knew from experience that nothing could make this better, which meant there was nothing he could do to spare her from this suffering.

The water hadn't done much to revitalize him. He dried his face off with a towel and left the bathroom, deliberately not glancing at his reflection. He avoided looking at the scattered sonograms too as he walked to the door. It stuck a little when he opened it, and he couldn't quite close it right behind him. For some strange reason, this made him want to laugh, but he didn't.

He had barely rounded the corner of the corridor leading to the lobby when a crashing blow struck him on the side of the face, sending him staggering back. He knew who his assailant was before he looked up. It was Spike, and Angel was fairly certain he hadn't seen him this furious in a very long time.

"Do we really have to do this now, Spike?" he groaned.

"Yes we bloody well do." He drew back his fist again, but this time Angel managed to block the punch.

"It should have been mine! All of it should have been mine and you know it. I wanted it more than you did. I fought harder." He was certainly fighting harder now. Angel was woefully outmatched and they both knew it. He was able to land maybe a punch or two of his own in between avoiding getting his head knocked off by Spike's.

"That was never what it was about."

"Bollocks!" Spike shouted. His face transformed and his voice cracked. "I deserved it just as much as you!"

"Maybe you'd be able to understand if you still had a soul."

"That right? Like the one you were about to give up just now? Yeah, Dru told me."

"Oh, she still pining for Daddy?" said Angel, injecting disdain into his tone. "I've been wondering why she went back to you, but I guess you're just the only option now. I mean, she never did pick you when there was actually a choice. In fact, now I think about it, that's kind of a recurring theme, isn't it?"

Spike snarled and threw Angel into the wall. He hit his right shoulder hard, dislocating it, and slid to the floor with a grunt of pain. "I didn't come here so I could play second fiddle to you, mate," said Spike, seizing Angel by the throat and lifting him back up until his feet dangled inches above the carpet. "You always got everything I wanted, but unlike your sodding perfect life, you never even wanted Dru. If I kill you, she'll finally be mine. Or what if I turn you? Do you think you could still take what's mine if I'm the sire and you have to answer to me?" Angel struggled, but it was no use. His right arm was immobile, and now his vision was starting to blur from the lack of oxygen to his brain.

"So you do still exist after all," said a voice full of barely contained menace.

Spike turned to look at the newcomer in the corridor and his face broke into a grin. "Yeah, that's right. Soul's all gone, and the real Spike is out to play. But you'll have to wait your turn, Robin; I'm not finished with Batman yet."

"You still think it's all a game, don't you?" said Wood, his lip curled. He raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt struck Spike in the wrist. With a yell of pain, he released Angel, who crumpled to the floor with a barely audible groan and lay still.

Spike tore the crossbow bolt out with his uninjured hand and threw it aside, now giving his new opponent his full attention. "Why do all the blokes I want to kill have to be married to Slayers?" he said irritably.

"What's the problem?" said Wood. "I thought you liked killing Slayers, so what do the people they care about matter?"

"Yours is one of the few I happen to like better alive. You know she came onto me once or twice?"

Wood laughed. "You might have ruined my childhood, but you'll find that my marriage isn't as fragile. By all means, though, keep giving me more reasons to kill you."

"All the reasons in the world'll get you nowhere without the ability to get it done."

Wood fired another bolt. This one hit Spike on the shoulder; he hadn't dodged quickly enough to avoid it completely. "You were saying?"

†

All five people (and/or vampires) in the lobby with super hearing simultaneously looked up at the second floor landing. It sounded like a body had just been slammed into a wall. This was followed by the quieter sounds of fists on flesh and then the much louder sounds of swearing and a roar of either anger or pain, which caught the attention of everyone else. Finally, Spike and Wood came into view in a flurry of fists. Wood had clearly taken the worse beating, but he was still going. He pressed a split-second advantage and was able to use Spike's weight against him to send him tumbling down the long staircase. Five seconds later, Spike came to a halt, sprawled at the bottom step.

"Looks like the truce is off," Demetri observed.

"Oh, good," said Nyx. "I was just starting to get hungry."

Demetri lunged at Oz while Nyx grabbed one of the Watchers-in-training, and pandemonium broke out. Connor immediately went to the Watcher-in-training's rescue but was not prepared for the ferocity with which Nyx began fighting him. Before Demetri could do serious damage to Oz, Abby was fighting at his side, her eyes blazing fiercely as she attacked the demon who had killed her parents and made her and Livvy's lives hell down in that tunnel.

Dru, who had just drifted back into the lobby from the side corridor, joined in happily, and Spike had already thrown himself into the fray. The only vampire not participating was Sophia, who merely looked exasperated at this new development.

Connor was beginning to feel truly afraid for his life, painfully aware of the fact that Nyx was toying with him. It was all he and the two Watchers-in-training who were helping him could do to fend off her blows, but while they were starting to flag, she seemed to keep finding further reserves of strength. Before he knew what was happening, she had seized him by the hair and wrenched his head to the side. He could hear Dawn screaming his name over the noise of the fighting, but before Nyx's fangs could pierce his neck, she was suddenly torn away from him and thrown across the lobby like a ragdoll. Connor looked up in grateful surprise for his rescuer and his stomach gave an unpleasant jolt.

It was Illyria.

"ENOUGH," she shouted. There was a ringing power in her voice, and the entire lobby froze, all heads turning in her direction. Nyx glared furiously at her from where she had landed, but even she appeared cowed. "Fools! Do you not understand what transpires around you?"

_Buffy swung the Scythe in a wide arc, and her demon's head went flying. She looked around at the other three Slayers._

"Reality folds as you tear at each other's throats. But as with you, so it is with my kind."

_Maribel was bleeding heavily from a cut on her forehead, but her demon was dead. Clare and Megan were still fighting theirs. Buffy yelled for Maribel and they both rushed to help._

"In their battle for dominance, they are blinded to all else."

_Miles away, Faith hacked her way through two of the demons that were trying to get at Renée and Laurel._

"They make no effort to stop you because your feeble attempts to return them to their shattered prison are beneath their notice."

_Renée was quick to return the favor, slashing upward with her claymore and taking out the one that just lunged for Faith._

"The moment a hierarchy is established among them, this world will cease utterly to be yours."

_Alex ducked as Erin hurled her dagger, which hit home in the chest of a demon._

"If you wish to keep it, you must prove that you are more than insects crawling at their feet."

†

The final demon fell under Vi's sword. She and the members of her squad exchanged glances. "Do you think it worked?" one of them asked uncertainly.

* * *

I hope it was clear that the last bit was an Illyria voiceover with scenes of all the Slayers fighting (in slow-mo, naturally). That kind of thing is much harder to do in writing than onscreen. Title of the episode comes from that quote "Hell is truth seen too late," for those of you who didn't recognize it. So this is pretty much the in-fighting episode where all problems are internal. The scene with Angel and ghost!Lindsey is probably my favorite of the whole thing. I didn't realize until I was halfway through writing it that the scene where Demetri and Sophia show up would have actually put Eliza Dushku and Alan Tudyk in the same room. As an Alpha/Echo shipper, I couldn't not have Demetri hit on Faith. Her response makes me giggle. And okay I'm actually too hungry right now to make this author's note any longer, so, bye!


	19. 9x19: Through the Valley of the Shadow

I can't believe I let _ten months_ go by between updates. In my (feeble) defense, real life got rather complicated due to everything involved with transferring to a different university, and I've been much busier at my new school than I was at my old one, because in-state tuition means that I can attend full-time again, so I have at least twice as much school work as before, and I'm also working more hours at my job here than I was at my job there. But I could still have finished this much sooner if I'd tried hard enough. I let myself get distracted by the _Harry Potter_ fandom after the last movie came out, and then I got distracted all over again by _Doctor Who_, and then *again* by everything I could find (particularly _North & South_ and _Robin Hood_) that has Richard Armitage in it (though I don't think anyone could blame me for finding him distracting). But I've kept you all waiting long enough for this, so I'll shut up now and let you get on with reading.

* * *

Episode 19: Through the Valley of the Shadow

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Rachel Hurd-Wood as Nyx,

Alan Tudyk as Demetri,

Morena Baccarin as Sophia,

Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan,

Jewel Staite as Tahn,

and

Ron Glass (Shepherd Book from _Firefly_) as Darius Matthews

†

Monday, March 21, 2005

The old warehouse was dark; the few dim, reddish rays of the fading sunlight that filtered in through the high, grimy windows were insufficient to light the cramped space within. Families huddled together around candles or battery-powered lanterns, eating the remnants of a meager supper of canned food and preparing for bed.

A tall black girl walked among them. Her eyes were warm and kind, but looked much too old for her seventeen years. Many of the people she passed looked up at her, their faces full of respect and gratitude, but also of worry. She smiled back at them, trying not to let any of the strain she was feeling show in her expression.

After finishing her circuit of the room, she returned to the little office in the corner. Within, she found her grandfather, who was, as she had expected, busily writing in his botany journal. She noticed that he wrote with his left hand—the old war wound in his right arm must have started acting up again. He looked up at the sound of the door closing behind her, then set his pen down and smiled.

"How is everyone doing this evening?" he asked. He had a deep, slow voice that never failed to make her feel safer, even in a situation like this one.

"No worse than usual," she replied, plopping heavily into the chair on the other side of the desk.

"And the supplies?"

"The warehouse's inventory won't last much longer than another week. And that's only if we drop down to two meals a day."

"And what about you, Esther? You look tired. Did you take an extra shift on watch again last night?"

"Mr. Harding was falling asleep at his post, Grandpa," she said. "I'm just trying to keep everyone safe."

"You still need to take care of yourself, my dear."

"Has any more progress been made on the generator and the radio?"

He raised an eyebrow but allowed the change of subject. "A little, but the microphone is too damaged to carry a voice, even if we do get the rest of it working."

"We'll figure something out," said Esther. "We have to."

He regarded her in silence for a moment, but then they both went rigid in their seats. Through the thin metal walls of the warehouse, they could hear the faint sounds of a child singing what seemed to be nursery songs. In an instant, Esther was out of her chair and through the office door back into the main warehouse, where the fear was almost tangible as the singing grew louder.

"Lights out and stay quiet," she instructed in as loud a whisper as she dared. At once, all lanterns were turned off and all candles were extinguished. In the terrified silent darkness that fell, Esther could hear, in addition to the eerie singing outside, the soft sounds of sobbing coming from one of the women closest to her, and the even quieter murmur of a man's voice speaking hollow words of comfort.

†

The atmosphere inside the Hyperion was tense and uncomfortable. Small stacks of books littered every surface of the lobby. One of the Watchers-in-training stepped carefully around the researchers, halfheartedly gathering up the debris of food wrappers and empty foam coffee cups that had accumulated during the day. At the counter, Oz sat fiddling with the knobs of a radio that looked old enough to have been used when the Hyperion still functioned as a normal hotel, listening for the latest tidings of strange catastrophes occurring across the country.

It had been a month since the Old Ones had escaped from their prison, and even with so many people researching practically around the clock ever since, they were still no closer to finding a way to get rid of them. All they'd been able to do was send help to some of the most afflicted areas and keep the fallout to a minimum, but even that wasn't always a very straightforward process. London, for instance, had been caught in some kind of time loop, the result of which was that bombs were falling on them every night—the exact same bombs that had fallen sixty years earlier during the Blitz. And that was hardly the worst battle scar that had inexplicably reopened. It seemed that, around the world, nearly every war mankind had ever waged was echoing forward into the present in some form or other. But even that was only part of it.

The front doors of the hotel flew open and Xander and Renée strode inside. The twenty or so people (and four vampires) in the lobby all looked around at them apprehensively, wondering what the bad news would be this time.

"Well, we've solved the mystery of what's been going on in northern California," said Renée grimly.

"What is it?" asked Giles, who had emerged from the office with several books in his arms to listen.

"It's total Reign of Fir up there," said Xander.

"'Reign of Fir'," Willow repeated, frowning. "Don't you mean 'Reign of Fire'? Like, that movie with dragons and stuff?"

"Oh, if only," said Xander with a rueful chuckle. "No, I mean Reign of _Fir_. A bunch of the forests up north came to life, and it doesn't exactly look like they were populated with Giving Trees. Luckily it isn't happening in populated areas—yet, anyway, but hikers and lumberjacks beware."

"So, are we dealing with Womping Willows or Ents?" asked Dawn half-jokingly from where she sat near the door.

"Womping Willows, alas," said Renée. "With a bit of the nightmare trees from _Snow White_ thrown in for good measure."

"Not that surprising, is it?" said Spike, looking over at Angel, Gunn, and Lorne, who were grouped near one of the pillars.

"No," said Gunn. "Illyria could talk to plants back when she was still at full strength. If enough of her buddies could too, then I bet waking up forests is no problem for them."

"As if it wasn't enough that the animals, the weather, and time itself have gone mad," said Giles wearily. "Now we have to deal with violent flora as well."

"It's like the Old Ones are an infection and the whole planet is reacting to it," said Willow.

"And it's only going to keep getting worse until we find a way to stop them."

Everyone except Angel looked up at the staircase to see Buffy descending the steps towards them.

"Hold on," said Oz suddenly, causing a few heads to swivel back in his direction, "I think I've got something here." He turned the volume knob on the radio so that they could all hear it, but it was still difficult to hear the broadcast about what was happening to the forests over a series of loud clicks and taps that had just started up. Oz reached to tweak the tuning knob.

"Wait," said Angel. "Don't touch it." He moved closer to Oz, whose hand was still frozen an inch from the knob.

"What is that, Morse Code?" asked Xander.

Spike snorted derisively at Angel. "_You_ know Morse Code? When'd you find time to learn that in the middle of all the brooding?"

Angel scowled and waved a hand for quiet. Oz slid a pen and paper across the counter, and he took them gratefully and began recording what he heard. About a minute later, he set the pen down.

"But it's still going," said Renée. "What about the rest of the message?"

"It's just repeating now," said Angel.

"What did it say?" asked Oz.

"'Three Points, California to Hyperion Hotel. Eleven families trapped. Send help. Esther James,'" said Angel.

"I know that name," said Willow. "Esther James. She has a profile on the Council website. She's a Slayer. She was planning to come here for training this summer."

"Let's send in reinforcements," said Buffy. "Where is Three Points?"

"Not terribly far northeast of here," said Giles. "It would be an easy drive."

"Then I'll go," she said.

"Me too," said Spike at once, standing up. "Beats another night of pointless research." This earned him glares from quite a few of the dedicated researchers in the room. Nyx cast him a haughtily amused look as she strode past him in the direction of the weapons cabinet, her intent to join them clear. He raised an eyebrow and watched her pass, tilting his head slightly.

"We'll go too," said Xander, indicating Renée.

"Aye," said Renée. "Researching really isn't our forte anyway."

"Great. Anyone else wants to come, make up your minds quick, grab your weapons, and get loaded up," said Buffy.

Willow watched her best friend preparing to leave with a sympathetic ache in her chest. It didn't take a very observant person to notice that she and Angel were still as closed off from each other—and everyone else—as they had been a month ago. As far as Willow or anyone else knew, they hadn't spoken more than a few words directly to each other since the day the Old Ones escaped, nor had they touched each other—with the exception of when Buffy had shoved Angel's dislocated shoulder back in place after his fight with Spike (it had taken three weeks for the gash that her wedding ring had left in Spike's cheek to heal, and his nose was still a little crooked).

They still shared the same suite and slept in the same bed, but their lives, as far as Willow could see, had become a painful dance of avoidance. They clearly hadn't been able to talk to each other about the miscarriage yet, and their mutual determination to be the stoic leaders of the fight against the Old Ones was making it even harder for them to deal with their grief.

This was especially painful to observe when compared to the way the current situation seemed to be bringing everyone else closer together. Willow felt that pull herself, drawing her closer to the one she loved—the only comfort to be found with the world in a state of siege and the future so dark and uncertain.

At least Angel was going on this mission with Buffy, Willow thought, even though it probably had more to do with his utter inability to leave Spike to his own devices while in her company than anything else, but maybe they'd find a chance to communicate anyway.

Within half an hour, the Three Points relief party, consisting of Buffy, Angel, Xander, Renée, Spike, Nyx, Sophia, Demetri, Alex, and Cole, had departed. For the most part, research resumed in their absence, but Willow was distracted. Illyria had drifted in, and her behavior was even more unsettling than usual. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling and she held her head at an angle as she walked slowly until she stood precisely in the center of the room.

"What is it?" asked Willow.

"Two of my kind clash in the air above this hotel," said Illyria, still staring at the ceiling. At these words, there was an immediate flurry of panicked movement as everyone in the lobby leapt to their feet, but they fell down again almost instantly, for the floor had begun to tremble.

†

Three Points was an even smaller town than Sunnydale had been, and the streets appeared deserted when the relief party arrived. All the street lamps were off, making it difficult to see for everyone who wasn't a vampire. Buffy led the way down the completely silent main street, Scythe at the ready.

"Okay, I'm already sufficiently creeped out," said Xander, unable to take the tension of silence any longer. "Where are all those families? And what turned this place into a ghost town?"

"The message said the families are trapped," said Cole, "so they're probably not out in the open."

"Shut up!" said Nyx.

Cole looked annoyed, but fell silent. Nyx had stopped walking and was standing very still with her eyes closed. Sophia was already doing the same, and a second later, Demetri and Spike also froze in their tracks.

"What do you hear?" said Angel.

"There's a child singing nearby," said Sophia, opening her eyes again. "Her voice is lovely."

"Dru would have liked it," said Spike. He hadn't asked Dru to come with them and she hadn't offered.

"So, what, is this kid in trouble?" said Buffy a little impatiently. "What's with the singing?"

"Let's find out," said Demetri. The four vampires led the way, and soon the humans in the party could hear the singing too. Instinctively, Buffy and Angel glanced at each other, but then quickly looked away again.

"There she is," said Alex, pointing to a spot about half a block down their street, where a little girl had just walked into view, her hands behind her back. She looked younger than Livvy—maybe four or five years old. She wore rubber boots and a pink dress that went down to her knees, her dark blonde hair was in messy pigtails, and she looked like she'd just spent a few hours romping around through muddy puddles.

"What's she doing out here all alone?" asked Renée, walking forward until she was ahead of the others. "Why isn't she with that Slayer and those families?"

"It's okay," said Xander. "We'll get her back to them."

Renée smiled gratefully at him and kept walking towards the girl, who was still singing, though she had stopped moving and turned to look at them.

"It's alright, sweetie," said Renée. "We won't hurt you. Where are your mum and dad? We can take you to them."

The girl's head tilted slightly and she began to walk to Renée. Everyone else still stood where she had left them, watching. There was something off about that little girl…

"Can you hear—" Demetri began, frowning.

"No," said Sophia.

"What?" asked Buffy.

"That girl's heart isn't beating," said Nyx. All five humans looked at her in horror, then back at the girl and Renée, who was only a few yards away from her now.

Xander ran forward. "Renée! Get away from her!" he yelled.

"What are you talking about?" said Renée, still moving forward. "She needs our help."

"Don't touch her!" shouted a new voice, which belonged to a young black woman who was standing on the roof of a two-storey building on the right side of their street. She vaulted over the edge, landed cat-like on the sidewalk below, and pelted towards Renée, reaching her in time to prevent her outstretched hand from coming into contact with the girl's shoulder. Renée, more confused than reluctant now, did not fight her.

"All of you have to get out here," said the young woman, her eyes on the little girl. "If she's here, the rest of them are close."

"Who are they?" asked Xander, taking Renée's hand and pulling her farther away from the little girl.

"The former inhabitants of the Three Points cemetery."

Renée looked horrified and hastened to put even more distance between herself and the little girl.

"Are you Esther James?" asked Buffy.

"Yes. And that would make you the reinforcements we sent for from L.A."

"It would," said Sophia.

"Good," said Esther. "Follow me."

†

Thankfully, the earthquake was over almost as quickly as it had begun, though it had still left them all very tense. "Are they gone?" asked Tahn shakily as Tobias (released from the hospital two weeks earlier) slowly loosened his arms from their protective circle around her.

"They have moved their battle elsewhere," Illyria confirmed. Her unfathomable alien eyes fell upon Giles. "But their presence lingers."

Several people looked around at Giles too, and Dawn and Connor, who stood closest to him, recoiled slightly. "Giles!" cried Dawn. He had gone rigid, his face contorted in pain, and dark shadows were suddenly twisting and coiling under his skin.

Dawn made to move closer, though she didn't have the faintest idea how to help him, but Connor looped an arm around her waist and held her back. "It's his curse. It's activating."

"But how?" said Willow as the others in the lobby clamored in alarm at his words. "It only activates in total darkness."

"Must be more fallout from the Old Ones," said Oz.

"Fiat lux!" said Willow hastily, and Giles was showered in brilliant gold light. However, to Willow's immense disquiet, his transformation did not reverse, as it had when she used the same spell the previous fall. On the contrary, it was speeding up. All the light seemed to accomplish was to keep him immobilized while his body changed shape and became covered in impenetrable shadow so thick that even his clothing was soon hidden by it. As they watched, his back arched, his limbs lengthened, and long claws curled from the ends of his fingers and feet. At the same time, his human teeth sprouted into a mouthful of three-inch, needle-sharp fangs, and his eyes began to glow with a fiendish red light.

Towards the end of the transformation, Oz made a sudden jerking movement. "Willow!" he said.

She looked around at him, then gasped, comprehension dawning for her as well. If this was happening to Giles, then…. "Triennia!" After hurriedly making sure that Giles's light cage would remain in place without her, she sprinted into the office, through the portal, and down the tunnel that led to the Archive. Halfway there, she almost collided with two Watchers-in-training and a Slayer. They seemed to be fleeing for their lives, which confirmed Willow's worst fear.

Standing serenely just outside the Archive door was Drusilla. "Mind the shadows when you go inside, dearie," she said, in the sort of tone one would use to remind someone not to leave milk off the grocery list. "They are cross today, and so very hungry."

"Thanks," said Willow, who was not in the mood for Drusilla's habit of making things seem even more disturbing than they already were. She ran past her and into the Archive.

Thousands of tiny balls of light were still shining in their places on the six enormous chandeliers, but they were clearly doing as little to combat Triennia's curse as the lights in the Hyperion lobby had done for Giles's. What was more, Triennia's shadow beast form had clearly learned from its last encounter with Willow, because she hadn't gone five steps beyond the threshold when there came a blood-curdling yowling scream from behind her. She turned in time to see the monstrous creature pouncing from an alarmingly short distance.

Willow managed to dodge the worst of the impact, but the creature made a wild swipe for her as it hurtled past her, and though the claws missed, the force of the blow was enough to knock her flying over the railing. She landed heavily on the top of one of the towering bookstacks ten feet below, the impact completely winding her and the momentum from the fall sending her rolling right to the edge of the wooden surface. She fell over, only just succeeding in catching hold of the edge and stopping herself from plummeting the remaining four floors.

She could hear the growls of the beast and knew it would renew its attack within seconds. Her feet found purchase on one of the shelves, and she hastened to hoist herself back onto the top of the bookstack. She had barely righted herself when, sure enough, there was another yowling scream, and the creature came leaping from bookstack to bookstack in her direction.

"FIAT LUX!" she shouted, raising one hand over her head and pointing the other at the creature. At once, every ball of light resting on the six chandeliers zoomed towards it. It was one stack away from her when they collided with it, and it was frozen in mid-pounce.

Heart still racing and body aching, Willow descended one of the ladders on her bookstack and then climbed four flights of stairs back up to the exit of the Archive.

†

It was even darker in the shadows of the buildings between which Esther led them, but it was clearly a route she knew well. None of them spoke as they followed her, and after about ten minutes, she halted at the side of an old brick warehouse and began to climb a rusty ladder that rose all the way to the top and disappeared over the edge. Once they had all joined her on the roof, she walked over to a hatch.

"That the only way in?" said Xander.

"Zombies aren't great with ladders," said Esther. "It works." She did not extend the four vampires in their party an invitation to enter. When it became clear that they didn't need one, she looked angry, but didn't stop them. The ladder descending down from the hatch in the roof led to a catwalk that overlooked the entire warehouse. Renée gasped at the sight of the refugee families grouped around small light sources across the floor.

"How long have you all been in here?" she asked.

"Nearly two weeks," said Esther. "The place might not look like much, but it was a functioning canned food warehouse until the town shut down. It was stocked enough that we've all had enough to eat so far, but we're starting to run low."

"Did you call us here to help you get to safety?" said Buffy.

"If we can't figure out a way to get rid of the zombies."

"Then why'd you have us run away instead of fighting them back there?" said Spike.

"Because we don't know how to fight them yet," said Esther, scowling at him. She turned to face Buffy. "I thought you'd be sending me Slayers, not vampires."

"Hey, you've got three Slayers here," said Alex.

"Four," Nyx corrected her smugly. Spike looked intrigued.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Look, until we figure out how to fix the world, these guys are on our side."

"Slayers working with vampires?" said Esther incredulously. "Oh, look, a flying pig."

Xander snorted.

"You're saying I should trust them with these people's lives?" Esther went on, throwing her arm out to indicate the families below.

"No," said Angel, his eyes on the vampires. "But you should trust them to act in their own best interests like all vampires do. They'll do whatever they can to get things back to the way they were."

"We don't like what's happening out there any more than you," said Sophia.

"Fine," said Esther curtly. "Come with me."

†

When Willow arrived back in the Hyperion, though Giles was exactly where she had left him, she was surprised to find that Oz was no longer there. Nor were Connor and Dawn. "Where did they go?" she asked Tobias, frowning.

"They didn't say," he said with a slight shrug. "I'm sure they'll be back soon, though."

Willow nodded vaguely, though her brow was still furrowed. Maybe after she recovered from fighting off and immobilizing two shadow beasts, she would try to contact Oz telepathically.

"What are we going to do about him?" said Tobias, nodding towards the immobilized shadow beast Giles.

"I don't know," said Willow. "Light's the only thing I know of that counteracts the curse, but I think the interference from the Old Ones isn't letting it work the way it's supposed to."

"Was it the same with Triennia?"

Willow nodded again.

"I'll help you research the curse in case things get worse," he offered.

"Good idea. See if you can find anything on elemental manipulation. If the Archive has anything on curses like this one, that's where we'll find it."

†

"I didn't think you'd respond to our distress call so quickly," said Esther's grandfather, sounding both impressed and grateful.

"We were lucky enough to catch it on the radio," said Angel. "Are you the one who wrote the message?"

"Our equipment wasn't very good, so we had to resort to Morse. Good thing I still remember it. I'm Darius Matthews, by the way."

"Were you in the military?" asked Xander.

"Chaplain and medic with the 15th Medical Battalion in Korea," said Darius proudly as he began to shake the hands of each member of the relief party. He used his left hand for this, and paused when he reached the first vampire.

"Don't worry about it, Grandpa," said Esther when he glanced at her questioningly, still frozen in mid-handshake with Demetri, who looked amused. "They're here to help."

"I see," he said. His expression was still cordial as before, though he did not move on to shake hands with the other three vampires. "Welcome to Three Points."

"What can you tell us about the zombies?" said Buffy, folding her arms and leaning back against a large crate.

"Nothing we've tried against them does much more than slow them down temporarily," said Darius. "And we've been creative. The infection doesn't just affect the already dead. It works like rabies on the living. That's what happened to the people who didn't make it here in time, when it first started."

"Then we have to get these people somewhere safe," said Angel.

"We passed a shipping yard a few miles out of town," said Buffy. "If we can get everyone that far, we can hijack a truck or two and get everyone to L.A."

"We cannae leave the zombies, though," said Renée. "What if they wander off and attack someplace else?"

"But nobody knows how to kill them," said Cole.

"Maybe we don't have to," said Xander. "Maybe we can just trap them. They're slow and stupid, right?"

"They're smart enough to use bait," said Darius, "but that's about it."

"How quickly can you get everyone ready to leave?" asked Angel.

"'Bout an hour," said Darius.

†

To speed up the process, the rescue party had split up and were helping the families get the things they were taking with them organized. The vampires did not participate. While Sophia and Demetri mainly stood with their arms folded, Nyx sidled up to Spike. "You smell that?" she said.

Spike frowned and inhaled deeply. Then his eyes narrowed and swiveled around to fix on Darius, who was walking towards the office. "I think I do," he growled.

About thirty feet away from them, Xander and Renée were filling a wheeled crate with supplies. "What kind of rubbishy Slayer cannae even tell the difference between a little girl and a zombie?"

"The kind who sees with her heart," said Xander warmly, depositing an armful of goods inside the crate and taking her hands in his. "You saw a lost little kid and you had to help her."

"I could have gotten us attacked by a mob of zombies," she said, tugging her hands away and turning to continue loading things in the crate.

"But you didn't," he said. "And now you know to make sure lost little kids have pulses before you try to help them," he added, grinning. She glared at him and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, though the corners of her lips were twitching. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "You're a great Slayer, Renée, and an incredible woman."

She gave a rather watery smile and reached a hand up to the back of his neck to pull his face to hers for a lengthy kiss. A couple of children giggled somewhere in the vicinity, but they ignored them. Xander wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. After a while, she broke away, but made no move to step back. "I love you, Alexander Harris," she said, lifting one hand to touch his face, which immediately split into a wide grin. He opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance. At that precise moment, they and everyone else in the warehouse were distracted by a loud noise coming from the office.

They exchanged a glance and dashed over. When they reached the threshold (along with Alex, Cole, Buffy, Angel, the vampires, and a few of the Three Points residents) it became obvious what had happened. Spike, it seemed, had entered the office and attacked Darius, and was now being wrestled to the ground by Esther.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" said an irate Buffy, storming past everyone else crowded around the door and yanking the two of them apart.

"The demon attacked my grandpa! I'll kill him!" yelled Esther, fighting furiously against Buffy's grip, determined to get at Spike.

"You stupid bint, _he's _the one you should kill!" Spike bellowed back. "Or haven't you noticed he's been infected?"

A gasp rippled through the onlookers as all eyes fixed on Darius, who looked bewildered. Esther stopped fighting Buffy's grip and turned slowly to stare at him too. "Grandpa?" she asked, all authority gone from her voice—she suddenly sounded like a frightened little girl.

"It's not true!" said Darius.

"How do you explain this, then?" said Nyx, who was standing just inside the room. Faster than blinking, she had reached his side and ripped off his right sleeve, revealing a festering, greenish wound on his forearm. There were renewed gasps and quite a bit of fearful muttering at the sight of it.

"I know it looks bad, but it can't be the zombie infection. It hasn't spread."

"What happened?" said Esther.

"I don't know. I think I scraped it against jagged metal the day we came here."

"That's not a normal infected wound," said Angel. "It looks _dead_."

"I haven't been able to treat it properly," said Darius defensively. "I did the best I could with the herbs I brought with me."

"What herbs?" asked Buffy.

"Yarrow and yerba mansa," he said. "They're good for preventing inflammation."

"And they really did the trick," said Spike dryly. "Sure it wasn't gangrene you smeared on your arm?"

"Is it possible that you got bitten?" said Angel, ignoring Spike and moving forward to examine the revolting-looking wound more closely.

"I-I guess so," said Darius anxiously. "Everything that happened when we came here is a mite blurry, it happened so fast."

"Did you gather those herbs yourself?"

"I always do."

"Where from?"

"Out near the cemetery. There's a big open field with plenty of them."

Angel nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Angel?" said Buffy.

He looked around at her for a second, his concentration momentarily broken, then said, "I think I know how to fight the zombies."

†

Weary though she was from all the magic she had used and her fight with the shadow beast, Willow couldn't stop herself from pacing restlessly in front of the brilliant cage of light that now held both Giles and Triennia. With the exceptions of Tobias and Tahn, the researchers had all relocated out of the lobby, going either to the ballroom or their own rooms instead—two snarling monsters made of solid shadow caged up yards away wasn't exactly conducive to keeping one's focus on research.

So far, the books Tobias had procured from the Archive hadn't yielded anything that they didn't already know. It seemed that the books only accounted for the way curses like Bracchion's behaved under normal circumstances. This was not altogether surprising. As far as any of them knew, no curse of this nature had ever operated in close proximity to an Old One at full power, so it was natural that there was nothing written that could help them solve the problem at hand.

The building around them shuddered again for a few seconds with the force of another aftershock from the earlier earthquake. More plaster dust trickled down from the ceiling, adding to what already speckled the floor. The trembling of the hotel set off another bout of horrible yowling from the shadow beasts, both of which paced the inside of the cage just as restlessly as Willow did the outside.

"Ugh!" she burst out suddenly, frustrated. "Why did it have to be Giles? He's the one who would know what to do! And _where_ is my husband? What's he up to with Dawn and Connor? Why didn't they tell anyone where they were going?"

"No luck contacting him telepathically, then?" said Tobias.

"No! I actually get _static_ in my head whenever I try it."

"Is that because of the Old Ones too?" said Tahn, sounding worried. "Can they get inside our heads?"

"Probably," said Willow dully. "But according to Illyria, they think we're insects, so I doubt they'd spend their time spying on our insignificant insect thoughts."

"Oh." Tahn looked as though she couldn't decide whether Willow's words were reassuring or discouraging.

"My guess is that the telepathy not working is just another side effect of the Old Ones fighting out there," said Tobias. "Like, instead of an electrical storm, a psychic storm."

"Just as long as it doesn't get any worse," said Willow, her eyes on the cage again.

†

"You'd better be right about this, Angel," said Spike. Together with Esther and a few of the men from the town, the rescue party had carefully set out from the warehouse, heading in the direction of the cemetery. They were all agreed on the fact that if Angel's theory about the herbs turned out to be correct, then they should not attempt to get everyone out of town until they had returned with a large supply of the stuff.

"Then again," Spike went on, "even if you're not, it's just you humans who'll get zombified, isn't it?"

"I don't know," said Xander, who was walking within earshot of both of them, "Maybe you should go find them and let them take a few bites out of you just to be sure vampires are immune to this kind of zombieism."

Angel smirked, Buffy rolled her eyes, Spike scowled, and Esther's already fragile trust that these people would be able to get her friends and neighbors to safety took another blow—though she supposed she was glad to see that the alliance between the humans and vampires didn't seem to be a friendly one.

They were about a quarter of a mile from the cemetery when the sound of a child singing reached them, and they all froze in their tracks. Everyone from Three Points immediately looked around sympathetically at a tall man with auburn hair, whose face was white as a sheet.

"John," said another man quietly, putting a hand on the white-faced man's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to be here?"

John nodded, his jaw muscles visibly clenching and unclenching.

Having watched this exchange closely, Renée moved over to Esther. "That little girl," she said in an undertone, "is she—_was_ she his daughter?"

Esther looked at her sadly and nodded. "She died a little over a month ago. Leukemia. I used to babysit her. She was the sweetest little girl I've ever met. And now she's the bait the other zombies send out ahead." Her gaze became rather fierce all of a sudden. "You people working in L.A.—you're going to stop whatever's done this to her and the others, right?"

"Either we stop them and put the world to rights, or we die trying," said Renée.

"We have to keep moving, everyone," said Buffy. "The rest of them could be anywhere." They started walking again, even more alert and wary than they had been before. The singing grew louder as they went. Soon the little girl was visible ahead of them under the moonlight. She faced away from them as she walked along the narrow road, and when they got a little closer, many in the group (though not Esther, John, or any of the vampires) recoiled in horror.

The girl held her hands behind her back, just as she had when the group from the Hyperion first saw her, but now they could see that she wasn't merely clasping her hands together while she walked. There was a gaping hole in her mud-encrusted dress, and the flesh surrounding her spinal column below her ribcage seemed to have been eaten away, leaving the vertebrae so exposed that she was able to wrap both hands around them.

The group parted to go around her. She continued to walk and sing as if she was not aware of their presence. But when John went past, she abruptly stopped.

"Daddy?"

Everyone turned to face him. His eyes were full of tears as he looked at his little girl. "Emily," he croaked. His expression was that of a desperate man ready to abandon his crushing grief at the smallest sign of hope. "Maybe—maybe the herbs could fix her," he said, looking around imploringly.

"No, John," said another man. "She died before any of this started. And you saw Darius's arm. At best, the herbs will only halt the effects, not reverse them."

"But we could still try, couldn't we?" he pleaded. As he spoke, his hand drifted out, and before anyone could stop him, he had touched his daughter's shoulder. Immediately, she let out a piercing scream.

"Run!" Esther shouted, before tearing off in the direction of the cemetery, which was near enough now that they could see the gates. They hadn't been running long when Emily's screech was drowned by a haunting chorus of groans and shrieks, and a crowd of blank-eyed, chalk-white people in various states of decay came into view. The horde had arrived.

"Slayers and vampires with me!" Buffy yelled. "Everyone else to the cemetery!"

Angel, Xander, and Cole led the other men while Buffy, Renée, Alex, and Esther fell to the rear with the vampires, weapons in hand, ready to hold the advancing zombies at bay. Only a handful were fast enough to reach them before they passed through the cemetery gates. Buffy's Scythe cleaved the air alongside swords and axes, releasing a pure, ringing note as it sent undead heads rolling.

Then they were within the cemetery, and though the zombies quickly reassembled themselves, they did not pursue them through the gates.

"Whoever's in charge of the landscaping in here should be fired," said Xander.

"It didn't look like this the last time I was here," said one of the Three Points men. As expected, the earth in front of every headstone showed clear signs of recent disturbance. Less expected was the heavy spiderwebbing of dark green vines that covered everything in sight. Names and dates on headstones were completely obscured by the heavy growth, and the perimeter fence was so thickly coated that it looked more like a leafy wall than the wrought iron fence it was.

"Well, I think you must have been right about those plants if the zombies don't even want to come in here after us," said Sophia. "And I'm guessing that all of the ones in here will have the same effect, not just those two herbs."

"Yeah," said Angel, but he looked troubled. "Does anyone feel a breeze?" he asked.

"No," said Cole.

"Then why are the leaves moving?"

A nervous, uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the strange stirring of the plant life all around them.

"Think they'll mind us chopping them up to make zombiecide?" said Xander.

"I'd rather risk the wrath of vines and flowers than unkillable zombies," said Demetri, swinging his sword into a particularly dense cluster of vines on the fence. The blade stuck, and he had to strain to pull it free, but when he did, it was covered in a thick, greenish-white substance.

"How do we know that stuff won't be toxic to vampires as well as zombies?" said Alex. "I mean, you're both dead."

"That's easy," said Nyx, walking over to the fence and copying Demetri's actions with her own sword. Then, in the space of an instant, she had flitted over to Spike and slashed him across the chest with it, leaving a gaping diagonal slit in his black shirt and a bloody (though shallow) cut in his skin.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Spike shouted at her. She smiled cheekily while Demetri roared with laughter, Sophia pursed her lips in disapproval, and most of the humans looked torn between amusement and exasperation.

"That answer your question?" said Nyx, turning to Alex.

"Yep," said Alex lightly, for, though Spike was still fuming, he seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the sap-like substance.

"Great," said Buffy. "Then let's get ready to go kill some zombies."

†

The plants were extremely reluctant to leave the earth. Even the Slayers and vampires had rope burns on their palms by the time they had collected enough to fill the bags they had brought with them. The vines creeping along everywhere also seemed determined to hinder them in other ways—pulling taut at inconvenient moments, causing them to stumble, and continuing to attempt to wrest their weapons from their hands. By the time they had what they'd come for, they were almost glad to leave the cemetery to fight zombies instead.

The zombies hadn't gone far. They were unwilling to get near the cemetery itself, but they still swarmed the road outside it, and as soon as the humans and vampires emerged, they began to stumble towards them, arms outstretched, ghastly moans increasing in volume.

"Here goes nothing," said Buffy, and she swung her sap-coated Scythe in a great arc as the first wave of zombies reached them. Two were beheaded and a third was left with the Scythe's blade stuck halfway through its skull. Buffy tugged it free. There was a dreadful moment when it appeared that the sap was not going to do its job, but then all three zombies fell to the ground, properly lifeless once again.

Taking heart from Buffy's success, even those who had hung to the back of the group surged forward to join the attack. The zombies had them outnumbered several times over, but they were slow and clumsy, no match for the humans of average strength, let alone the Slayers and vampires. Only once or twice did a zombie come close to sinking its teeth into anyone. Renée spotted one creeping up on Xander's blind side and promptly cut it in half with her claymore, and Alex killed one shambling towards Esther from behind.

It was over fairly quickly. The dirt road was soon heaped with bits of decomposing corpses. But before any of the fighters could take any pleasure in their victory, there was a great rustling sound, and creeping vines slithered across the ground towards them. Several of them yelled, others hacked at the green tendrils with their weapons, and they all scrambled to get out of reach. They stopped a little way past all the fallen bodies and turned to watch.

"Looks like the cemetery wants them back," said Xander. Slowly but surely, each body was snared by vines, which slowly began to drag them through the gates. John dashed forward. Several people tried to call him back, but he ignored them. He leapt and dodged his way through the vines until he reached the ones that had wrapped themselves around his daughter's body. He brought his axe down several times, until he had freed her, then scooped her up into his arms and returned to the others.

"I'm going to bury her somewhere those things won't get to her," he said. "Go on back to the warehouse without me. Everyone else will want to know that it's safe to go home now."

†

Willow, Tobias, and Tahn had plowed on with their research on the off chance that it would yield something helpful despite their pessimistic expectations. Tahn was just getting up to stretch her legs and get them all some coffee from the kitchen when a patch of air three feet off the ground in the center of the lobby began to shine with blue light. Within seconds, the light widened into a ring a yard in diameter, and Dawn stepped through it, a pained expression on her face, closely followed by Connor.

"Where have you been?" Willow demanded.

"Palermo, Sicily," said Dawn.

Before any of them could voice their bafflement at this, Dawn and Connor parted to make way for Oz, who was in wolf form. He emerged through the portal, dragging a disheveled, struggling Bracchion by the collar of his expensive suit with his teeth.

The three who had already been in the lobby all leapt to their feet.

"Release me this instant, you beast!" Bracchion was yelling indignantly. Oz dragged him a little farther, then deposited him on the floor in an ungraceful heap. The Immortal got to his feet and straightened his suit coat. "I demand an explanation for this disrespectful treatment!" he said.

Oz growled menacingly, causing Bracchion to flinch.

"You're going to lift the curse on Giles and Triennia," said Connor, and comprehension dawned on Willow's, Tobias's, and Tahn's faces.

†

"You could come back to L.A. with us," said Renée.

"Thanks," said Esther, "but I think Three Points needs me more. I couldn't leave Grandpa here anyway, and he's going to want to study those vines in the cemetery."

The two Slayers glanced over at Darius, who was still showering gratitude on the other members of the rescue party for everything they had done. They were back in the warehouse now. The barricades had been removed from the main exits, and all the families had either left for home already or were preparing to do so.

"Give us a shout if you need anything else," said Renée.

"I will," Esther promised.

Xander walked over to them at that point. "Hey," he said, looking at Renée, "we're about to head out."

†

"I'm sorry, but this is really quite amusing," said Bracchion. "You may barge into my casa and drag me here, but you have no leverage. No power to force my hand. Witchcraft doesn't work on me, and I cannot die."

"No, but you can feel pain," said Connor.

"Really, young man, I have lived for longer than you can even imagine. Do you honestly believe you are the first to wish to torture something out of me? I will not break, and I have all the time in the world, while you do not."

The front doors of the hotel opened and Buffy, Angel, Xander, Renée, Alex, Cole, Spike, Nyx, Demetri, and Sophia entered.

"_You_!" said Spike when he saw Bracchion.

"Not now," said Angel.

"What's he doing here?" said Xander.

"He's lifting the curse on Giles and Triennia," said Dawn, which drew the attention of the newcomers to the cage of light and its restless occupants.

"No he isn't," said Bracchion. "I gave you my terms on my last visit, and they have not changed. I will cooperate for nothing less."

Without saying a word, Buffy strode forward, seized Bracchion by the already tattered lapel of his coat, dragged him over to the cage of light, and held him off the ground so that he was dangling right in front of the bars.

"No! Please! What are you doing?" he cried frantically, struggling to get loose, but her grip was iron and unyielding.

"Lift the curse now, or you'll find yourself one of the afflicted. Magic may not work on Immortals, but we know for a fact that this shadow thing does. I'm sure the two of them will be happy to pass it on."

"You're bluffing," said Bracchion.

"Am I?" said Buffy coldly. She extended her arm, so that Bracchion passed partway through the beams of light. Giles's and Triennia's growls grew louder.

"Alright! Alright!" he shrieked, abandoning all dignity.

"Need any materials?" asked Angel.

"Ch-chalk," said Bracchion. "Just chalk. Please!"

Tobias ran to get some at once, and returned within a minute. He handed it to Buffy, who stuffed it into Bracchion's hand as she lowered him back to the floor. "Do it. Now."

"Of course. I only require a moment." Bracchion began to draw complicated-looking symbols on the floor all the way around the base of the cage. When he reached the spot where he had started, he pressed his hand to the chalk drawing, which glowed with a light even brighter than the cage. The light closed in on the two shadow creatures and engulfed them. They didn't even have time to screech in pain before the light had done its job, and the shadows fell away from Giles's and Triennia's bodies, fading into the air like wisps of smoke.

* * *

If I hadn't already named this episode ages ago (and if I had much sillier chapter-naming conventions for this fic), I probably would have called it "Plants vs. Zombies" (a game I started playing out of curiosity as soon as I realized the similar elements in the episode). But the real title works on multiple levels. Obviously there are the literal shadows, Giles's and Triennia's curse, and then there's the "valley of the shadow of death," which is a rather nice way to describe Three Points. So it addresses both sides of the story at once. You may have noticed up in the list of guest stars that I've found an actress to play Nyx. Rachel Hurd-Wood is the girl who played Wendy in the live-action _Peter Pan_ movie (one of my favorite movies ever). She has very red hair, she's the right height, and I think she has the right look. Here's a particularly Nyx-like picture of her: http:/ /i2. listal. com/image/765975/600full-rachel-hurd-wood. jpg (take out the spaces). She's only a couple of months younger than I am, which would have made her thirteen in late 2003 when Nyx first arrived in "Season 8", but since this fanfiction, I can take creative license. She's twenty-one now, and Nyx is stuck at eighteen, so the more current pictures of her, like the one I linked, should give you a better idea of her as Nyx than when she was playing Wendy. Also among the guest stars was Ron Glass, playing Esther's grandfather. I have now used all five of the _Firefly_ main actors who weren't already in the Buffyverse in my fake seasons. *pride* And, you may have noticed, all five of them were in this episode.


	20. 9x20: The Faerie Wood

Ah, summer break. Plenty of time to write—when I'm not working overtime at my job. *grimace* Sorry for the wait, guys. At least it was only half as long as the one between episodes eighteen and nineteen. Since this is a two-parter, I'm hoping to get the second half done before school starts in the fall, at the very latest. Now then, enjoy!

* * *

Episode 20: The Faerie Wood

Guest Starring (sort of): Angel Coulby as Renée Blackwood,

Rachel Hurd-Wood as Nyx,

Sean Maher as Tobias MacGowan,

Jewel Staite as Tahn,

and

John Francis Daley as Leonard

†

Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Renée found it a struggle to drag herself out of bed, but the Old Ones weren't a problem that would go away if she ignored it, so she resisted the desire to pull the covers over her head and never come out again. A fresh stack of books surely awaited her downstairs, and perhaps one of them would contain the answer, the solution they had all been seeking for six weeks. Or maybe she would be needed on another relief mission. Though those really only treated the symptoms instead of curing the disease, they were still worthwhile, reminding everyone why they had to keep trying.

When she stood up and walked to her dresser, she was pleased to discover that no dizziness or queasiness was triggered and that she had no urge to shiver in the absence of her blankets. It seemed she no longer had the flu. The last couple of days had been awful, and not just for her—spirits in the Hyperion, which had been low enough already, had been dampened even further lately by an epidemic of the same illness. The only ones who hadn't been affected were the non-humans who were immune. Faith and Wood had kept the three-month-old Nicky from getting sick by retreating to their London flat and barring anyone from crossing the portal to it. The Slayers seemed to suffer worse than anyone else, but recovered in just a day or two.

Renée got dressed in a pair of worn, comfy jeans and a shirt with thin, horizontal yellow and white stripes, then moved sluggishly towards her bathroom. Once inside, she fumbled for the light switch with her left hand while her right closed over the hairbrush she had left on the counter. She shut her eyes tight against the onslaught of light and began to brush her hair. Once her eyes had adjusted, she opened them. When she looked into the mirror, the brush tumbled out of her hand. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound never left her.

†

Bracchion, to the displeasure of most, had decided that he would be more comfortable staying at the hotel than going back to Italy. He mostly remained in his room, but whenever he decided to grace everyone else with his presence, he did little but flirt with the nearest female (even if she was clammy and greenish-white and did nothing but scowl at him) and scoff at research he deemed completely pointless.

Willow was too engrossed in the book she was reading to notice that the Slayers who had been studying on either side of her were suddenly scurrying for cover, and was therefore the only remaining target for the approaching Immortal's unwanted attention. "Why don't you put that book down and accompany me on a stroll?" he said, leaning one elbow on the counter and reaching over to trail his fingers along the top edge of her book. "I am sure you will find me much more worth your time than these dusty pages."

"My magic may not be able to affect you directly, mister," said Willow, jerking the book out of reach, "but I could still levitate large, heavy objects into your face."

"There's no need to be so abrasive, my dear," he said, sounding offended. "In truth, there is little you could do that would not be a better use of your time than searching those books for a way to exterminate the Creators. It can't be done."

"Creators?" Willow repeated, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"Did Triennia never mention it?" he said, idly examining the fingernails on his left hand. "Our race was created by an Old One who wished to outdo the creator of mankind."

"What?" Willow practically shrieked. "Why the hell didn't you tell us about that before?"

"It isn't as if it'll do you any good," he said with a dismissive sniff. "We may have been alive when the Old Ones fell, but none of us remembers it clearly enough to benefit you. I may as well ask a human what it felt like being born."

Willow scowled heavily at him, but his words had given her an idea.

†

Drusilla's deceptively delicate-looking fingers clutched the railing separating the lobby and the second floor corridor. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at a spot some seven or eight feet out into the space in front of her. "Poor Daddy," she said softly, "trying to help, but getting hanged for his trouble. And yet he calls this place his home."

Her attention was caught then by a flash of bright red below her, which turned out to be Nyx's hair. The petite vampire was striding across the lobby like she owned the place. When she was halfway to the door that led to the courtyard, she glanced up for a split second, locked eyes with Drusilla, and smirked. Drusilla's hands clenched into fists, her nails shaving thin curls of wood from the banister. "Thief," she hissed.

†

Spike would have been happy to smoke his cigarettes inside the hotel, particularly as Angel had forbidden it, but since the ban was supported by two dozen Slayers, none of whom especially liked the idea of working with vampires in the first place, he grudgingly chose to take his smoke breaks in the shaded part of the courtyard instead. It was during one of these smoke breaks that Nyx sauntered up to him, something she'd been doing rather frequently for the past week or so.

"Fancy joining me on a hunt?" she asked sweetly.

He raised an eyebrow and jerked his head in the direction of the patch of morning sunlight that began five feet from where he was standing. "It'd be a short hunt."

"Not if we used the sewers."

"You know," he said, snuffing his cigarette out on the side of the pillar he'd been leaning against and taking a couple of steps towards her, a smirk tugging at his lips, "it's not very healthy to go hunting when you live in a hotel full of Slayers. Angel Jr. and Wolf Boy can smell it if we've gone off our special truce diet, and not all of us have immunity from Slayer-related harm."

She shrugged. "So you can do the killing and I'll do the drinking. It'll be like you're buying me dinner. Madame General won't even see us leaving together, if she's what's stopping you. She's holed up in the office with a book."

"Who says I even want to buy you dinner?"

"Oh, you want to," she said, boldly gliding closer and trailing her fingertips lightly over the lapels of his coat. She leaned in so that her mouth was inches from his neck. "You've wanted to since you found out I was a Slayer." His eyes closed as her hands continued their journey, abandoning his coat for his black shirt, traveling down until they reached the hem and slipping underneath to touch skin. "Come and find me when you decide."

†

Buffy, sitting in the office with Giles and Dawn, couldn't focus on the book in front of her. Nobody in the hotel had been hit harder by the flu than Angel, and yet he had somehow managed to heave himself to the lobby to join in the research. Giles, who had been one of the first to fall ill but had now largely recovered, could not fail to notice the way Buffy's gaze was frequently drawn to the window of the office, through which the couch where Angel sat was clearly visible.

"He's going to be fine, you know," he said gently after the dozenth time he'd caught Buffy's gaze wandering.

"Huh?" she said, looking around at him with unfocused eyes. Dawn glanced from one to the other of them over the top of her own book.

"Angel," said Giles. "Within a few days, it'll be as if he was never ill."

Buffy's expression taughtened slightly and she avoided Giles's eyes. After a moment, she said, "How can you be sure? His body hasn't had to deal with sickness for hundreds of years."

"True, he hasn't built up the same resistance to modern pathogens that the rest of us have, but to have survived to adulthood in the eighteenth century, he must possess a remarkably strong immune system. I very much doubt that he is unequal to something like this." Though she didn't reply, he knew he'd said the right thing. The set of her shoulders eased, as if a great weight had been lifted from them, and she turned away quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent him from seeing the watery brightness of her eyes.

About thirty seconds later, Willow strode into the office. "Any luck?" Giles asked her.

"No," she said.

"I saw Bracchion out there," said Dawn. "If you want, I can open a portal to the shrimp world and get Connor to toss him in."

"That's fine with me," said Willow, "but right now I want to try out a hunch."

†

Nyx had no trouble getting to the basement without anyone noticing. The humans were mostly all still swooning with fever too badly to leave their rooms, and none of the ones who had managed to join the researchers in the lobby had any attention to spare for her, or anyone who accompanied her. She smirked and thought of Spike. He would join her. Perhaps not immediately, but she wouldn't be waiting long.

The basement door squeaked slightly when she opened it, and she gladly stepped into the deep shadows on the other side. She probably would have come down here even if she didn't have plans; it was the only place in the entire hotel that was completely free of the stench of sickness-ravaged humanity. Nyx enjoyed human suffering as much as the next vampire, but she'd never been fond of the odors that tended to accompany it, nor of what it did to the taste of the blood.

She had only gotten halfway down the stairs when a sweet singsong voice floated out from somewhere nearby, making her jump. "_Last night I saw upon the stair a little man who wasn't there._ _He wasn't there again today._ _Oh, how I wish he'd go away_."

Furious for allowing herself to be caught unawares but not wanting to show it, Nyx adopted a haughty, indifferent expression and looked over at the tall, thin woman standing near the sewer access door. "What are you doing down here?" she said.

"Shhh, dead Slayer," said Drusilla crossly, holding a finger to her lips. "You mustn't wake the creatures below the earth."

"They're already awake," said Nyx irritably. "That's the problem."

"Why else would I be singing them lullabies?" Drusilla asked, with a look that suggested that Nyx was being extremely dim-witted.

Only the gloating thought of her impending rendez-vous with Spike stopped Nyx from scowling in response. "Great," she said, making her tone as scathingly patronizing as possible, "why don't you go do the same in the basement of the Academy, and then in the Archive, just to be thorough?"

Drusilla flashed a brilliant smile at her. "What a lovely idea," she said, and immediately strode towards the stairs to leave. Nyx watched her go with narrowed eyes. When she was on the threshold, she stopped and turned slowly to fix Nyx with an ice-cold, unsettlingly lucid stare. "You think that you will never end, dearie, but I can see baby sister sifting your ashes through her fingers."

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" said Nyx, a growl rising in her throat. "Who's 'baby sister'?"

"I missed her when she came for a visit," said Drusilla as she turned away again and kept walking, "but she'll be along soon enough."

†

Spike was almost to the kitchen when he hesitated. He was alone in the corridor, and his eyes were drawn to the door that led to the basement. Nyx was down there, waiting for him. He could go meet her, or he could go on to the kitchen, get some pig's blood, and then go to the Archive in search of Dru, who seemed to enjoy floating about amongst the ancient books, for some reason. After a few seconds' pause, he continued on.

Xander and Leonard were in the kitchen when Spike entered, sitting on stools, passing a package of Saltines back and forth as they attempted to concentrate on the contents of a couple of old books in front of them. Spike ignored them, retrieved a container of blood from the fridge, transferred the contents to a mug, and headed to the microwave.

"You know that heating it up that way ruins it, don't you?" said Leonard. Xander's lips quirked up in amusement and his eye flickered to Spike to watch his reaction.

"Bull," said Spike, opening the door and sliding the mug inside. "I've microwaved blood plenty of times."

Leonard snorted. "Okay, then."

Spike looked around at him. "We're only not allowed to _kill_ you wankers, you know. Nobody said anything about breaking bones."

"I'm pretty sure they did, actually," said Leonard, looking maddeningly calm—even entertained—in the face of Spike's threat. He took a swig from his bottle of ginger ale, then pointed at him with the finger of the hand still holding it. "Seriously, though, you can't just throw blood in the microwave."

"Why not?" said Xander, showing all the curiosity with which Spike refused to dignify the subject.

"Blood isn't like hot chocolate or coffee," said Leonard, "it has living cells in it, and if you heat it up too fast, they'll explode. It's called hemolysis. There's been at least one case of a hospital patient dying because of a transfusion that got heated up too fast in the microwave."

"Ouch," said Xander.

"Well that's the patient's poor lookout," said Spike, beginning to press buttons. "Vampires aren't quite as fragile."

"Look," said Leonard, shaking his head, "vampires usually drink blood straight from the source, which suggests that you need it as fresh and alive as possible. You keep heating it up like that, you'll end up slowly starving yourself. So, unless you're trying to lose weight…."

Xander snickered.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, removing the mug from the microwave unheated. "That explains a lot." He then raised the mug to Leonard, switching to vamp face with a smirk. "Cheers, mate," he said, and chugged the blood down.

"No problem," said Leonard, his smug half-grin sliding off his face, to be replaced with a very queasy grimace. Xander, having long since gotten used to Spike's diet and manners, merely clapped Leonard on the back and resumed munching Saltines.

†

"Not that I don't appreciate the study break, Wil, but why are we here?" said Buffy. Their bodies were still in the office, but their conscious selves were walking beneath the thick canopy of leaves in the forested realm of the tiger spirit guide.

"I think we might have been going about this the wrong way," said Willow. "With the research, I mean."

"Please tell me this epiphany didn't come from Bracchion."

"He's right, Buffy," said Willow, her voice quiet and grave. Buffy looked at her sharply. "I mean, think about it. We've been looking in books for a way to destroy them, but everything in the Archive is from way after the Old Ones were locked in the Deeper Well. They're just records based on accounts of their followers in the past few millennia, and whatever else people could find out about them a long time after they were gone. Nobody who wrote those books actually saw one die."

"What else can we do, though?" asked Buffy. "I mean, it's always better to know more about the thing you're trying to destroy, isn't it? We might still find a weakness somewhere."

"Well, yeah, but in the meantime, I want to try a more direct approach. Illyria was murdered before the fall of the other Old Ones, so she can't tell us about that, and the one that killed her kind of sneaked up on her, so she doesn't know how he managed to kill her in the first place. Bracchion and Triennia were too young to remember it, but maybe someone else does."

Right on cue, the white tiger emerged from between two trees. "I did not think I would see you again so soon," it said, lowering its great head.

Willow was about to make a confused remark about how it had been several months since their last visit when Buffy said, "Where's Dana?"

"She has moved on," said the tiger, and there was something like wistfulness in its voice. "She would gladly have tarried here with me, but she was needed elsewhere."

"When—," began Willow in confusion, but Buffy answered the question before she could finish it.

"The day I miscarried. I was here while I was unconscious."

"Oh."

There was a painful silence, and Willow was intensely relieved when the tiger broke it. "What would you ask of me?"

Willow straightened and decided to get right to the point. "Do you remember the fall of the Old Ones?"

The ends of the tiger's whiskers dropped a few inches. "I'm afraid not," it said. "I have only existed as long as the Slayer line has existed, so that was before my time." Willow felt a great sense of let-down. She had really relied on her idea producing good results. However, the creature wasn't finished speaking. "But there are beings older than myself, beings whose memories of that time are clearer than those of your Immortal friends."

"Who are these beings?" asked Buffy. "And where can we find them?"

"They are not to be approached lightly. All are dangerous and most seek only to gain more power for themselves. In many ways, they are similar to the Old Ones. You have already dealt with some of them, if only indirectly."

"We have?" said Willow, her brow furrowing. "Who were they?"

"Wolfram and Hart," said Buffy darkly before the tiger could answer. "Angel told me they've been around pretty much forever. But they aren't the only ones you mean, right?" she went on, addressing the tiger now. It nodded. "Who's our best chance?"

Willow was glad to see her friend's eagerness and determination; she so rarely saw any emotion in her at all these days.

"Boone, the Guardian of the Faerie Wood," said the tiger. "He does not suffer trespassers readily, but he will deal with you honestly if you can prove you are worthy of his information."

"How do we find him?" said Willow.

"Only those who lose themselves in the forest can hope to find the Faerie Wood, and only children can see the gates."

†

Connor thought the hotel seemed unusually quiet when he got up that morning. Normally, thanks to his heightened senses, he could hear the sounds of people moving about in the rooms around his as they got out of bed and got ready—for instance, he very often heard Nigel discussing his plans for his day with himself in detail next door—but today all was silent. With a shrug, he decided to just appreciate the lack of noise while it lasted.

He looked around and was suddenly struck by how grateful he was that the room he'd used two years ago had already been occupied when he'd returned. Angel had apologized about that at first and offered to try persuading Laurel and Sarah to switch rooms, but Connor didn't particularly want the constant reminder of his old life in his surroundings. The hotel in general was different enough with so many people in it that he didn't mind spending so much time there, but living in that room again would be uncomfortable, at the very least.

Stifling a yawn, he shucked the sweats and baggy t-shirt he'd worn to sleep and pulled on fresh clothes from his dresser, then sat down on the edge of his bed, picked up his cell phone, and dialed his parents' number. They didn't know he was in L.A. He couldn't exactly explain that his girlfriend had made a portal that connected the closet in this room to the closet of his dorm at Stanford, enabling him to help out at the hotel as much as possible without missing any classes.

He stood up again and paced while he waited for someone to answer. After two rings, his mom picked up. "Hey, Mom," he said, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?" His face fell. "Yeah, I know," he said, stuffing his free hand into his pocket. "There's a lot of weird stuff going on. You'll tell me right away if anything goes wrong, won't you? …Okay…. Okay…. Yeah, I'll ask Dawn if she wants to come…. Love you too. Bye."

He was on his way out of the room when he heard a yell from somewhere down the hall. It only lasted about a second before it was cut short. Connor took off running in the direction it had come from, skidded to a halt in front of the door two down and across from his, and burst inside.

To his surprise, the room was empty, and there was no sign of a struggle. Still, something felt wrong. He knew this was the right room; the smell of fear was still in the air. Moving so quietly that even he couldn't hear the sound of his footsteps, he caught up the stake lying on top of the lamp table and crept along the wall, peering behind and under furniture.

As he passed the dresser halfway along the north wall, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and looked into the large mirror hanging on the wall. He had a fraction of a second to be confused by what he saw before that confusion turned to horror.

†

Oz had taken Dawn's place in the office when Buffy and Willow came to.

"What did the spirit guide have to say?" asked Giles at once.

"It told us to find the Faerie Wood and talk to its guardian if we want to know about the Old Ones," said Buffy as she got to her feet.

"Well that's something," said Oz, offering Willow a hand to help her up and glancing around at the three of them with slightly raised eyebrows and widened eyes.

"Yeah, we might finally be getting somewhere," said Willow.

"How does one find the Faerie Wood?" asked Giles, adjusting his new glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Big Kitty said we have to get lost in the forest," said Willow. "I guess it sort of finds you at that point."

"As long as you bring a kid with you," Buffy added.

"Yeah," said Willow.

"Need me to come with you?" said Oz, slipping his fingers through hers and squeezing gently.

"Thanks," said Willow, squeezing back while looking at Buffy, "but I think it might make it a little hard to get lost if you come with us." Buffy nodded.

"Got it," said Oz. "No trackers."

"Be careful," said Giles.

"We will," said Buffy.

Willow kissed Oz on the cheek, then left the office with Buffy. Oz and Giles watched them go. "If you'll excuse me, Oz," said Giles once they were out of sight. Oz shrugged, not taking his eyes off the doorway, but Giles had already strode across the office and disappeared through the portal leading to the Archive.

†

Abby and Livvy were eating cereal together in the kitchen when Buffy and Willow entered, having decided to look for them there before going upstairs to check their room.

"Hey," said Abby, pausing with her spoon halfway between bowl and mouth.

"Hey," said Buffy. "We need your help."

"What is it?" asked Abby, dropping the spoon into the bowl and sitting up straight.

"Uh, actually, it's Livvy's help we need," Willow clarified.

"Really?" said Livvy, dropping her own spoon with much splashier consequences and jumping excitedly out of her seat. "You need me?"

"Whoa, what?" said Abby, standing up too and moving in front of her sister. "She's not going on any missions. I thought we were on the same page about that."

"She's the only one in the hotel who can do this," said Buffy. "It's a kids-only thing."

"How dangerous is it?" said Abby, folding her arms.

"Shouldn't be dangerous at all," said Willow. "We're just going to go exploring in a forest—one of the forests that's still inanimate, I mean, and we need Livvy to tell us when she sees the entrance to the Faerie Wood. Then I can bring her straight back here."

"Wow, you mean real fairies?" said Livvy, sidestepping Abby and looking hopefully from Buffy to Willow and back again. Buffy nodded, and Livvy turned to Abby. "Oh, please, _please_ let me go! I want to see the fairies!"

"Fine," she said after a few seconds of pursed-lipped deliberation. "But I'm coming too."

†

Spike watched Buffy return to the office in the lobby only to vanish in a flash of white light with Willow and those two English Slayers. She hadn't so much as acknowledged him in days. Even in the midst of this weird estrangement between her and Angel, when Angel was so ill he could barely move, she didn't turn to him. And then there was Drusilla, whom he had to seek out if he wanted any attention from her.

Something seemed to snap inside his brain. Jaw and fists clenched, he abandoned the book he'd been using as little more than a cover while he watched Buffy from across the lobby. He stalked into the corridor that led to the basement, wrenched the basement door open, and stomped down the stairs.

Nyx was standing there at the sewer access door, just as she'd said she'd be. Spike hadn't wanted to admit to wanting her, but he did, and for once in a very long time, he hadn't been the pursuer. She wanted him and she wasn't ashamed of it, and it was bloody refreshing.

"That didn't take long," she observed.

"Look, I have one question for you before I go anywhere with you in those tunnels."

"Fire away."

"I'm not your second choice here, right? You wouldn't rather have that Demetri bloke going with you, or wish that Angelus were still around?" The second name came out through gritted teeth.

"I don't waste my time with second choices."

"Good answer."

†

Getting lost in a forest is a simple matter when you have a witch capable of teleportation on your team. Willow brought the three Slayers with her into the middle of the nearest patch of woods to Los Angeles—one of which the few forests in the state that hadn't come alive in the last six weeks. The distance they'd traveled was short enough that teleportation sickness wasn't too terrible—only Abby had to duck behind a tree to throw up.

It was a lovely spring morning, and here, with the vibrant forest around them, a warm breeze on their faces, and the sound of birdsong filling the air, it was hard to believe what was going on in the rest of the world. They chose a random direction and started walking. Many of the trees and undergrowth were in bloom, and the smell of flowers was almost too strong.

Despite Livvy's pouting scowl, Abby kept a tight grip on her hand as they walked, but it had barely been ten minutes before Livvy suddenly tore her hand away and trotted out ahead of the other three.

"Do you see it?" asked Willow.

"I…I think so," she said. She was looking at a pair of trees whose upper branches grew together to form a roughly circular gap between the trunks. To Abby, Willow, and Buffy, the two trees looked dead, their branches devoid of leaves and their trunks rotten and gray, but Livvy was staring at them with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. Before they could call her back, she had run forward into the gap between the trees. The second she crossed that threshold, she vanished.

"LIVVY!" shouted Abby, Willow, and Buffy in unison, and went charging after her.

†

As soon as they passed between the two trees, however, they nearly collided with her on the other side. She looked like she was about to burst with delight, and their reprimands to her for running off alone died in their throats when they saw why.

The Faerie Wood answered Buffy and Willow's every childlike ideal of an enchanted forest. Soft sunlight scattered off the leaves of the surrounding trees in rainbows of color. The random birdsong of the normal forest on the other side of the gateway was harmonized here into an orchestra, flawlessly weaving a tune that both calmed and invigorated them. The scent of spring blossoms was no longer overwhelming, though there were far more of them here and in a far wider range of colors. The breeze stirring the leaves felt like a friendly presence as it whispered past them. Small spheres of bright light were caught up in it, like dandelion seeds, swirling around each other and around them. They could hear what sounded like children laughing somewhere out of sight.

For a full minute, they did nothing but look and listen, finding more to see and hear all the time and becoming more hopelessly entranced with the wonder of it all.

"How come I never got lost in the woods when I was a kid?" said Willow faintly.

"Maybe I should have tried harder to get lost in those city parks we used to have Sunday picnics when I was growing up in L.A.," said Buffy.

"Something isn't right," said Abby, whose hand was firmly clamped around Livvy's once more (the only reason the little girl hadn't run off in pursuit of the laughing children).

Willow looked around at her, frowning. "What do you mean? Don't you like it?"

"It's beautiful," Abby admitted. She looked as if part of her wanted to get lost in the fairytale come to life, but the rest of her couldn't trust it to be real. "But it feels…off. I don't think we should stay here."

"You can go if you want," said Buffy, her eyes still on her surroundings. "I'll find Boone and see what he knows."

"Okay," said Willow, but she still only started to move when Abby grabbed her forearm and tugged her back towards the two trees. Almost immediately after Abby, Livvy, and Willow had gone, the sound of laughter suddenly drew much nearer, and three fairies appeared from behind a clump of bushes. Buffy spun where she stood to keep them in view as they flew around her head. They were all no more than four or five inches tall, with glittering translucent insect wings and clothing woven together out of leaves and flower petals. They looked and sounded like children of about Livvy's age. They were too small to really make out any of the details of their faces, but two were definitely girls, one with bright purple spiky hair and the other with long royal blue hair, and the third was a boy with messy green hair that hid the top half of his face.

"Uh, hello?" said Buffy. The fairies only giggled in response, then zipped away through the trees. "Wait!" she cried, running after them. They didn't go far, only to a clearing full of flowers and cheerful sunlight. More fairies appeared and dropped a wreath of yellow blossoms onto her head. "Please, can any of you take me to see Boone? I need to speak with him."

At her words, all the fairies in the clearing (there were about a dozen now) flew off together in the same direction. Hoping they'd listened to her and were flying to Boone, she followed. They went slowly enough now that she had time to enjoy her surroundings again. It was all so beautiful. Peaceful, despite the fairies' boundless energy. She felt as if none of her problems—or the world's problems—could touch her here. It took her a while to realize that she was smiling for the first time in six weeks.

†

Angel looked up from his book when the second flash of light heralded Willow's return. He expected to see Buffy with her, but she'd only brought Abby and Livvy back. He frowned. What with his body still wracked periodically with violent chills and his entire digestive system a squirming mess of pain and nausea, standing up was the least appealing prospect in the world, but he heaved himself to his feet all the same and made his way to the office in time to hear Willow gushing to Oz about what she'd just seen and Livvy begging Abby for something.

"I want to go back, Abby! Please, please, _please_ can I?"

"It was better than I could have imagined, Oz! I wish you could have seen it too."

"No, Livvy, you're not going back."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"Seen what?" asked Angel.

"The Faerie Wood!" said Willow and Livvy excitedly together, before lapsing into dreamy contemplation. Oz only had eyes for Willow, but Angel noticed the way Abby was looking at her little sister with concern and alarm.

"Come along, Livvy," she said, and the two of them left the office, Livvy with a heavy pout.

"Ready to get back to researching?" said Oz.

"Sure," said Willow, and they departed as well. Angel watched them leave, his frown back in place.

"Angel," said a voice from behind him, making him jump. He turned to see Giles entering the office through the portal, carrying two rather enormous leather books, one green and the other black. "Didn't expect to see you on your feet."

"I probably shouldn't be," Angel admitted ruefully, taking the opportunity to flop into the chair behind the desk. "What do you know about the Faerie Wood?"

"Only that it exists," said Giles. "It's not something the Watchers' Council ever placed much significance on in the time that I learned from and worked with them. Which is why I found these." He let the books fall onto the desk with dusty _thump_s, and Angel saw that the front cover of the black one bore the title _Fae_ in gold gothic lettering, and the green one, which was embossed with intricate Celtic knotting, had the words _Aes Sídhe _written on it in rounded silver letters.

Intrigued, Angel pulled the green book towards him and flipped it open. "Irish," he said in mild surprise. He hadn't expected anything beyond the title to be written in his native language.

"Yes, I was planning on asking for your help with that one, if you felt up to it," said Giles. "But I see that won't be necessary."

Angel shook his head vaguely, already immersed in the text.

†

Tobias couldn't keep his mind on his book. Tahn had been staying at the hotel since shortly after the Old Ones escaped, and they usually met up in the mornings to do their research together. Today, however, she had failed to appear. When two hours had elapsed past their normal meeting time, he gave up trying to read and went to find her, hoping she hadn't contracted the flu after all.

Her room was on the fourth floor, the first on the left after the staircase. Tobias knocked on the door tentatively. "Tahn?" he said. "It's me."

"Come in," said Tahn's voice, which sounded perfectly normal. Feeling relieved, Tobias entered the room, where he found Tahn rushing about, the end of her tail coiled around the handle of a hairbrush.

"Late start?" he asked, amused.

"Yeah," she said. "I slept in." She turned and smiled sweetly at him. "Why, Mr. MacGowan, were you worried about me?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted sheepishly.

Her smile broadened, showing her pointed teeth, and she flitted up to him and planted a swift, smacking kiss on his lips. "If you just wait another couple of minutes, I'll be ready to go downstairs with you."

"Okay," he said, slightly dazed from the kiss. She smiled and skipped over to the bathroom and disappeared into it. Barely a second later, her scream pierced the air. "Tahn!" Tobias shouted, running to the bathroom and wrenching the door open. She was no longer inside. The hairbrush she'd been holding was on the floor, still rocking back and forth slightly on its curved sides in the aftermath of being dropped. Tobias bent and picked it up, his heart hammering in panic.

"Tahn! Where are you?" he said. He threw back the shower curtain, but the stall was empty. He made to leave the bathroom, intending to run to the lobby for help, but then a flash of lavender caught his eye. He looked at the mirror, where, to his astonishment, he saw Tahn staring back at him with a terrified expression, her breath fogging the glass, her hands pressed flat against its surface. "Tahn!" he cried again, rushing closer. But as soon as he was directly in front of the mirror, his reflection seemed to knock her aside, even though he felt nothing. He had meant to place his hands against hers on the mirror, but instead ended up with his palms against his reflection's while Tahn stumbled to the side, looking just as surprised as he felt.

"What is this?" he said. "How did this happen?" She looked at his reflection standing next to her as he spoke, then looked back at him. He saw her mouth the words "I don't know," but heard nothing. He glanced automatically at his own image as if it could give him the answers he sought. The instant his eyes met his reflection's, the floor beneath his feet gave an almighty lurch, and he yelled as he was pitched forward _through_ the glass, landing heavily on all fours on the other side.

"Tobias!" cried Tahn. He could hear her now. She helped him to his feet, and he looked at her. There seemed to be something slightly off about her appearance, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He made to brush his clothes free of dust (even though there wasn't any), then froze, noticing that the buttons on his waistcoat were on the wrong side. He reached into his right pocket, only to find it empty. The list of book titles he'd made for himself was now in his left pocket, and the writing was all backwards. His pulse quickened. Growing more alarmed by the second, he put a hand to the right side of his chest and felt his heart beating there instead of on the left. He turned slowly to look out through the mirror into Tahn's bathroom. How were they going to get out?

†

Buffy didn't know how long she'd been walking, but she'd be happy to continue on for quite some time before finding Boone, because finding him would bring her that much closer to achieving her purpose in coming here, and once she did that, she'd have to leave. She didn't want to leave.

She'd seen a few dozen more fairies flying here and there as she walked, giggling and talking into each other's ears and staring at her with bright curiosity. They all looked like children, and she wondered where the adult fairies were, or if there even were any. Didn't they have parents?

The trees around her now were much taller and thicker than the ones surrounding the entrance to the Wood. It reminded her of the dream she'd had while at the hospital, when the tiger guide and Dana had found her. Of course, this forest was much more idyllic than that one had been, but the scale of things was the same. Maybe this was why she'd had that dream.

†

"Well this is interesting," said Giles.

"What?" said Angel.

"There's a whole section in here on the Faerie Wood. It begins with a quatrain:

If, in age, the Faerie Wood you find, beware,

For only children may go there.

But if a child you remain, then enter, friend,

And fairy's joy shall know no end."

"Only children may _go_ there," Angel repeated. "But I thought anyone could, just that only children can see the way in."

"Poetic license, I imagine," said Giles.

Angel made an indistinct noise in his throat and kept reading his own book. It was nice to have something to read that was written in his native tongue for a change. Doyle hadn't known enough Irish to carry a conversation in it, so this was Angel's first real exposure to it in a very long time.

He stopped, his brow furrowing, and reread the last paragraph. Then he stood up, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" said Giles.

"Buffy shouldn't have gone in."

"Why not?"

Angel didn't want to stand here and explain, he wanted to find Willow and make her take him to the Wood immediately, but his stomach was already roiling in protest just from standing up, so he sat down while it settled. "The sídhe—fairies, they keep you if you stay in their realm too long. Most people would be able to get out, but anyone who has something they're trying to escape in the real world falls under the spell more easily. This was written by someone who had to drag his brother back out."

Giles looked alarmed. "You think she'll want to stay because of what happened to the baby." It wasn't a question, and Angel only looked at him gravely in reply.

†

Buffy knew she'd come here for a reason. There was something important she needed to find out, but she was having trouble remembering what it was. She was still following the growing frollick of fairies (there were at least a hundred of them now) between taller and taller trees. She could see a kind of meadow not far ahead now, and when she looked around, she saw other fairies flying towards it from different angles. Perhaps that was their destination.

She walked faster, trying to see what was in the meadow. For a second, she thought it looked like a huge black stag, but too many fairies were now flying around it for her to make it out, pouring into the meadow from all sides, joining hands in a kind of mid-air line dance. When she stepped past the last tree, into the clearing itself, the fairies suddenly flew skyward with a chorus of laughter, exposing what stood in their midst to view.

Buffy gasped. She thought her heart might have stopped. If it really had been a stag, it wasn't now. It was a boy, no older than seven. He had spiky dark hair and large chocolate-brown eyes. He looked exactly how she had pictured her son looking when he reached that age.

* * *

I know, that was mean. This wasn't originally meant to be a two-parter, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much would be in it, and it just couldn't fit all in one episode. Hence the nasty multi-pronged cliffhanger. Anyway, the Faerie Wood is something I borrowed from my original fiction, but I've tweaked it a bit. I know there's already a character named Boone in the Buffyverse (that blue demon guy Angel fought in "Blood Money"), but I had already created my Boone long before I first saw that episode, and he wasn't willing to change names to accommodate the Buffyverse. Oh well. Also, I was rewatching _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ the other day and realized that I probably got the whole "ask a being old enough to remember" thing from the Book One finale. This version of Boone isn't *quite* as creepy as Koh, but he comes close. Moving on, I don't know how many of you picked up on the fact that Nyx was actually flirting with Spike last episode when she kept messing with him (she has issues), but this episode pretty much clears that up. And we have lots of sick people. Fun. I mostly did that because this was pretty much the worst possible time for Angel to be ill. Oh, and I'm inserting my headcanon that Angel knows Irish into this fic. So there. (Though I guess I already did that in episode five when I had memory-loss-Angel swear at Xander in Irish. Whatever.) Also, I wrote that Faerie Wood poem way back when I was in high school, for a calligraphy project, and those first three fairies Buffy saw are the ones I painted on the poster, fluttering around the words.

P.S. I watched "The Freshman" again about two days after I saw _The Avengers_ (which is awesome beyond words), and at the part when Xander says "Avengers assemble!", I totally freaked out.


End file.
